Draconian
by Neighpony
Summary: Draco has a little secret... but a wolf cub won't stay little for very long... Warning, story contains warning requiring stuff - like language, death and uncertain levels of peadophilia...
1. Prologue

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My name is Draco Malfoy, before we go any further there are some supposed personality flaws of mine we need to discuss.

Firstly, the idea has been raised that I'm arrogant - I am, so you'll just have to deal with that.

Similarly it has been put forward that I'm vain. All I have to say to this is: so what? Of course I care what I look like, everyone just says things like that about me because they're ugly and there's nothing they can do about it. At least I make an effort to look nice, I'd rather be called vain then ugly – why this is such a flaw, I have no idea.

A lot of people at school call me selfish, I resent that title but at least this one I can see where they got the impression from. I don't like most people quite frankly, I like my family and that's really about it. I'd do anything for the people I like and I **always **put what they want above what I want. When it comes to everyone else however… I doubt I'd bother to spit in their direction if they were on fire. I was disillusioned to the whole 'loyal friends' notion a long time ago, so no, I really don't care about people.

"I'm Dark" - I get that I'm in Slytherin and my family have a certain reputation but Potter _**killed **_someone in first year and no one even says boo to him about being dark. I'll grant I have more dark… souvenirs then most, but they're just interesting. I haven't done anything, I don't want to do anything and that label is just so poorly founded it's deplorable.

Oh, and the one that annoys me the most – people saying that I'm jealous of Potter. I mean, he's famous for doing absolutely nothing, gets everything handed to him on a silver platter and still has a cry about his life being so unfair. His head is so far up Dumbledore's arse it's no wonder he never wants to brush his hair. He's so dumb the only reason he passes anything is because he's got Granger wound around his little finger and she does all his work for him. If the little actor has ever had to work for anything in his whole life I'd kiss a bloody blast-ended skewt, and if the fact that I'm the only one with enough balls to speak out honestly about him means that I'm 'jealous' of him. Then fine, I'm jealous and he's still a complete arsehole.

So there's those flaws explained; now before we get onto this story I'll have to let you in on a not entirely secret, secret. I, Draco Malfoy, am completely animal obsessed – that's right, what I want most in the world, fame, fortune, superior sporting ability, and the best grades? Nope. What I have always wanted more then anything else in the whole wide world, is an animal of my very own, that I can love and take care of and go places with and do all those other animally things. However, as long as I'm at home or Father has any say in things, I will never have a pet, because emotional attachments are entirely unbecoming and I should grow out of the desire as soon as applicably possible.

I haven't though, and they know it, but ever since Grandfather Malfoy killed the pony I was learning to ride on because he saw me feeding it treats, we all just pretend like I don't care about them. I never acknowledge my owl in public, and I'm terrified one day they'll find out I've been petting him and he'll be killed, but still, I can't help that I love him, so I live on the wild side sometimes.

Whoever says I'm not brave has never seen some of the god-awfully reckless things I've done to get closer to, or help an animal.

Oh, and that would be everyone, superiorly secretive being that I am.

Procrastinating as always, this came up, slightly borrowed/inspired from Sirenic Griffin, liked the idea of writing in 1st person for a different challenge... that's all I have to say really, hope you liked it.

Katty xx


	2. Fate's a bitch sometimes

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The world is insane, and as always, I am an honorary member of society. Translated, my father is coming home from prison this afternoon, which is a good thing, except I pissed off my Aunt Bellatrix at lunch time so I decided an old fashioned cross country run was in order and I'll have to miss my father's homecoming to boot.

I'll be fine, she likes me well enough and besides, she knows she's not to kill family members, a perk of being a pureblood. All the same, she's a complete nutcase and I can say without any fear of decreased masculinity – she scares the shit out of me. So it pays to get far out of her way if you're stupid enough to say "It's weather like this I'm glad I can walk around with my shirt off and no stupendously obvious tattoo on my arm".

It was a joke, I mean really, I have no idea why she had to get so worked up over it… well I do, she's a nutcase we established that. Still, I spend like 10 months of the year at school, walking on eggshells about what can be said to/about/near/for who – it's maddening. You'd think I could say what I like around my own family without having to worry, but no apparently I can't.

Now I'm freezing my metaphorical tits off, because being about as fit as a flobberworm I gave up on 'running' ages ago. Then, because this is England, it decided to poor down freezing rain just long enough to make sure I'm drenched sufficiently so I'll die of some horribly painful illness later. Not wearing a shirt has seemingly screwed me over twice today and I could really do with a nice robe right now, some shoes would be good too. Though the mud between my toes actually is quite fun. Dirty… Going to cause frostbite… But fun.

I don't want to sound obsessive or anything, but I bet Potter is having a fantastic day today. It's like some messed up Murphy's Law that we live in opposites, whenever my life sucks his is great, and things usually seem to go pretty well for me when he's suffering… I suppose that might actually just be a form of entertainment I enjoy, as opposed to an actual law… but whatever.

I know that I should probably just turn around and head back home now, but I can't bring myself to. Even if the mud rose up and tried to eat me and the rain turned into hail, I'd still love the forest, still want to keep walking. The forest has always been my sanctuary, I feel as if I could just keep going for days until I calm down. As usual though there are so many things going on I'd die of fatigue before I managed to resolve everything in my walking.

Suddenly I can hear this strange keening noise; I can't identify it because it's too far away. If anything it just sounds like a bird but I'm agitated by it and I don't really know why. I walk towards it, increasing my pace without really noticing. It's not continuous, it stops and starts, goes up and down. If I had to guess I'd say it was a falcon of some kind calling, but then my stomach is churning in refusal to just dismiss the noise.

It stops abruptly but I keep walking, practically jogging again now, I'm scared but I can't explain it because I don't know what I'm scared of and I don't want to run home, I just have to find out what's wrong.

It starts again and this time I'm close enough, it sounds like screaming, horrible tortured screaming and it just keeps going. It isn't human though and that's precisely why my mind decided to hand control over to my body and I sprinted. Muddy ground that was slippery when I walked now solidly embraces my feet and wills me faster along the track. The track isn't going in the right direction though, so I crash my way through the underbrush instead, holly and nettles grabbing at my clothing and tearing my skin.

The noises just get louder and it's like I can hear the very essence of the animal that's in pain, but my own breath is rasping so loudly it's a wonder I can hear anything at all. Finally there's no underbrush in front of me and the trees open up, I gasp in more air, because of what I'm seeing before me, it suddenly feels like the whole atmosphere is closing in on me and it won't let me breathe without a fight anymore, the heat is oppressive.

There are three men, all look up at my presence but they make no move to stop what they're doing. Two of them are standing together, a struggling wolf strung between them, the source of the screaming, its insides are hanging out of its chest cavity but it's not dead. The other man is standing near a large ash with a shovel, but I can't focus on him. I can't take my eyes off the men with the wolf, one of which who was callously making cuts to peel the skin away from the poor creature.

It wasn't necessary, they could have killed it, they could have done any number of things, but there was no reason to be so cruel, it just, it wasn't necessary. I've never hated anyone like I hate these men right now and so my mind is made up and I draw my wand. I hold the wand; focus my thoughts, everything like when my father and I trained with dummies.

"Avada kedavra" I whisper maliciously.

The man holding up the wolf stumbles briefly and drops his catch. There is a thud and the slightest of crunching noises but the wolf does not move again. This only makes me angrier, remembering the taunts of Aunt Bella 'you have to truly want it dead or else it won't work'.

How dare my magic tell me what I want, that man was a murderer, a vile creature who didn't deserve to live and I was going to kill him, magic and everyone else who said I didn't have the stomach be damned.

"Diffendo" I yelled angrily instead.

Blood went absolutely everywhere, my aim was true and the first man's chest was cleaved open. It was disgusting, I wanted to vomit but at the same time I couldn't help thinking 'ha! See I did want him dead'.

The man holding his blood-soaked knife yelled in fear, and I felt nothing as this time the avada worked properly and he dropped dead onto the ground. The third man had managed to pick up one of those strange wands some muggles carried. I didn't know much about them except that they were very dangerous, so I cast a corporeal shield just as an explosion ripped through the air. Something hit the shield hard and I dropped it but when I looked up half of the man's head was gone. He stood still for a moment, both of us staring in horror and then he just dropped face first into the ground, dead.

Nothing moved in the forest, the silence now was deafening. You can't really blame me for being scared, ghosts popped up in the wizarding world all the time, or worse, poltergeists. I suppose that was what I was waiting for… the fallout. Three evil ghosts coming back from the dead to kill me, not that ghosts could kill people technically, but it was still a legitimate fear all things considered. Nothing continued to happen though, in fact, the birds began to chirp again, breeze blew in the trees again, and life went on as normal except for the three dead men in front of me.

They were dead too. Just like the wolves, and no one was going to suddenly get up and attack me again. So I found my courage and walked over to the bodies, my white knuckled grip on the hot wand just a safeguard in case of stampeding werewolves or some such possible event. My heart was racing in my mouth, I felt like I was going to faint, like whatever limb I used to poke the dead body was going to be ripped viciously from my person. It was ridiculous, I'd never been so scared of something in my life and it was a stupid fear – they were dead already for Merlin's sake!

Refusing to let fear have any control over my life I gave the half-headed man a poke. Standing as far as possible away from the corpse I carefully stretched my leg out and then my foot, finally straining my big toe for one large prod – immediately leaping away afterwards. Nothing happened. They were dead. Nothing was going to happen. Desperately I tried to reinforce these messages to myself, I was going to deal with this and overcome my fear of… whatever it was.

So, moving on to the next corpse I repeated my technique – stretch leg, foot, toe and leap. Again nothing happened. I repeated my tentative test to the last corpse, I must have hit a nerve or something because the whole body twitched and I just about soiled myself. However, it was still resolutely, undeniably, infallibly dead and there was nothing for me to be scared of.

So I made sure to give them all a big kick and a shove, just to be doubly sure they weren't progressively reincarnating. They weren't, I had dealt, I could be happy. But I wasn't. I could at least be proud, but I couldn't care less.

How could I possibly bring myself to care about the fact that this would make my parents happy, when there was an entire family of wolves lying dead before me, none of which had died humanely. It made me so angry I felt sick and I wanted to kill those men all over again. I hated them and I hated everything they stood for. I counted eight adults all lined in a row but for the last to die, fate was a mean bitch sometimes, if I had have been out here even just a few minutes before, that last wolf might have survived. I could have made a difference, but no, it was all just irreparable death.

Tears of frustration were welling in my eyes so I turned my head away in disgust. My vision landing instead on the fallen shovel, at last noticing what it had been used for. I wanted to scream in frustration, I wanted to tear them apart, to reimburse the pain that they had caused but they were already dead. I could do nothing but stare in fury at the tiny furry bodies that littered the ground. Three tiny pups, they couldn't have been eaten, they were too small to use for fur, they had just been killed because that muggle had the power too. Merlin I hated muggles.

Some sort of morbid fascination overtook me, even dead those pups were the most beautiful creatures I think I've ever seen. Slowly my hand reached out to smooth over the bloodstained fur, trying not to look where the shovel had nearly decapitated their little heads. I stroked them all softly, wishing them peace in their afterlife, but adventure too, the kind of long life they should have had here. My hand ghosted over the fur of the last pup, its fur a silvery white not like the steel grey of the others, but even covered in blood it still looked perfect. I couldn't yet see where the neck had been broken; fondly I ran my fingers more firmly through its fur, which was still so warm I could have sworn it was alive.

Its chest moved rhythmically up and down as I watched it sleeping… It… It was alive! Quite possibly the feeling of joy that flooded over me as I took that cub in my arms and knew that it was alright, was the happiest moment in my life to date.

Silver paws stretched to steady themselves as the pup was lifted from the ground, small nose working vigorously against my chest to take in the new scent. I could see it trying to open its eyes but they were not accustomed to the light and so after less then a crack they closed again.

I loved it wholeheartedly, that one little patch of warmth against my chest – and I knew in that moment, exactly what love was, absolutely, without a doubt. There was this explosive, exciting feeling swelling in me that just loved that tiny furball so much it felt like I would burst.

Then I did, I cocooned the little body between my chest and drawn up knees and I cried. I cried because I was happy, and because I was sad, because I had lost my innocence and I could feel nothing for it, because the pup was still so innocent and unaware of the destruction and loss it had suffered, because life was just unfair, I cried.

I could not take the pup, it just wasn't practical – a wild creature is better off in the wild. My grip wouldn't even loosen in consideration of leaving it behind though. In my heart I knew it had no family left and could not survive here anymore, and I refused to allow that voice to lie to myself again, not this time.

Either I took it and risked getting into trouble… who was I kidding, if I got caught I knew exactly what would happen. It would be killed, I would be castrated and my testicles stored for safe keeping, then I would be killed, then I would be brought back, then I would be killed again, brought back again, my testicles reconnected and finally I would be forced to sit amicably through the 'you know we love you and this is for your own good' lecture, nodding in all the appropriate places.

No, I decided, standing up and wiping my face dry as I cradled the wolf to my chest. For once I was going to put what I wanted first. It was their stupid rule that I didn't have attachments, but it was my risk to take and it didn't hurt anybody else. So I refused to let this fear win either – I had achieved my first kill at last and destroyed myself in the process, because that was the sort of son they wanted. Surely this meant they no longer had the right to control business of mine that had no effect on them.

I was adamant, I was righteous and mature, my own man…

I was still going to hide the pup though, I'm not stupid.

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**Katty xx**


	3. Purebloods apply caution

**Not a particularly popular story this one... oh well, ho hum :P**

It didn't seem like the walk back took any time at all, how I even made it back to the path I'll never know, enraptured as I was with the young life held in my arms. In minutes, it felt as if I had arrived at my first hurdle – sneaking it in.

That's the rather useful thing about living in a mansion though; it really isn't that hard to sneak, generally the challenge is to get noticed. Whatever, my adrenaline was coursing again as I stealthily jumped over the high wall into my private courtyard. Luckily no one was in my room or around, because by stealthily I mean that I tried to jump and climb a 6-foot stone wall one handed. So really I jumped, collided with the wall and clung with one hand as best I could. I kicked both my shins and moaned loudly due to the sufficient bruising trauma. Then I gave up and fell flat on my back because I didn't want the pup to get injured.

Eventually, after several attempts and deciding that I sounded too much like a pregnant woman I ended up putting the pup down and scrambling over the wall, levitating it over after myself. It remained sound asleep and unfazed by this, meanwhile I had never concentrated so hard on a levitation spell ever. Anyone would have thought I was performing brain healing.

Next a good hiding place was in order… something where no one and nothing would look… Well that could be anywhere in my room, seeing as I had banned the house elves from it but I was still paranoid, obviously. So I need some where excellent, secure, sound proof, breathable, warm… No matter how many attributes I listed pacing my room; nothing would jump out at me. The walk in wardrobe was too big, the white-tiled bathroom to cold, and not to mention dangerous with a gargantuan bathtub sunk into the floor. Just thinking about the dangers that tribute to Italian styling possessed made me shut the door firmly in anxiety.

So that left me with the desk or the dresser, both made of oak and far too high for a little creature, completely out of the question. I kept pacing, making a track around my bed. There was a big bookshelf, which could have been good, was the pup a book and not in fact a pup. The bedside table had a drawer lower to the ground, I realised as I glanced in that direction. So I moved closer to the bed to investigate, barely withholding screams of blue murder as my pinkie toe discovered something under the bed.

My trunk! Of course I was a moron, it was perfect! Forgetting my toe (as much as one can forget a limb that has been near cleaved from their body) I pulled the trunk out and flung it open. Pressing the runes on the side precisely I managed to raise the first layer of my trunk, pushing it to the side quickly to reveal the enchanted section at the bottom. I suppose it would have been the size of an average room, that's what the sales-wizard had said, but I wouldn't actually know. I've never seen an average room.

Yes, I am rich. It has its perks, get over it… moving on.

Gah, I've never had to use this section of the trunk. Surprisingly I'm actually fairly non-materialistic, especially at school; I don't keep a lot of stuff. Anyway though, I don't really remember how to work it. I know we brought it from quite a… umm… ok a dark shop, it is a dark trunk. My point is, the second section is for victims or other stolen goods to be quite frank, and if I can just find it I know there is a rune that toggles between an oxygenated trunk for live victims and a completely deoxygenated trunk for storing art work and things so that it wont decompose, or alternatively… never mind, you get what I'm saying.

This trunk can be perfect, if I can just find the right button. The wizarding world, my part of it especially does not allow for mistakes or random rune pressing. Seriously, muggleborns wonder why we don't like them, but they grow up in this happy go lucky world where everything is made so safe for them it's disgusting. Then they come to us and say we're stuck up because we follow traditions and think about things before we do them. There is a rune on this trunk that would incinerate the entire contents – some things require thinking and caution.

Finally, I find the rune for air and tentatively press it with my wand, I cringe in anticipation but nothing but the gushing noise of an oxygen flow is to be heard and so I give a sigh of relief.

Grabbing the knitted throw rug from the foot of my bed I wrap the pup up safely and place it in a large draw inside the trunk, carefully levitating it to the floor of the little room. Methodically I replace the show layer of the trunk and closing the lid, push it back under my bed.

It's time to deal with my family.

**So do you like it or not?!**

**Katty xx **


	4. Truthful lies

**Another chapter... because I like this story :)**

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I figure I'd better retreat around back the way I went out, so that no one would be suspicious of why I would go to my room before my father. Buzzing with adrenaline, I nimbly make my way back over the courtyard wall and begin to jog a little towards the forest before turning and stopping abruptly to calmly make my way back towards the informal sunroom.

Really, I didn't expect them to still be there, seeing as father was returning home that would be a slightly grand affair delegated to the lounge room. However, as I make my way through a small cusp of hedging pines I can see the moon-blonde hair of my mother shining brightly in the afternoon sun. Doubtless she was anxious about my whereabouts and had moved the celebration on to the sunroom.

They are all sitting around the polished table, my mother and Bellatrix facing away from me my father and Rodolphous facing the window looking towards me.

Noticing my approach father looks up and smiles at me. With a rush of excitement I realise just how much I had been missing him and so I wave back to him, beaming like a fool. Jogging the rest of the way to the sunroom, my father is at the entrance to meet me and wraps me up in his embrace. I know he has missed me and immaculate though he always is I can smell Azkaban on him – I can just sense it all over him.

My anger at Potter for hurting my family swells briefly and then dissipates completely as my father lets me go and smooths back my hair. Yes he hurt them, but it is now a trial overcome and my family was going to be ok.

"I missed you father", I tell him joyfully. My aunt is sneering while my mother smiles happily for the first time in nearly a month.

"Certainly Draco it is good to be back" he replies imperially, moving to sit back down at the table. I follow after him to take my seat but a shriek from my mother stops me in my tracks.

"D-Draco! You're covered in blood!" she cries leaping at once from her chair to come to my side.

'O_h fuck me woops' _is about all that crosses my mind as I realise that I forgot to tell them I just killed 3 people… how I could just **forget **something like that I'd rather not consider.

"Mother… Mother it's all right" I try to placate, "It's not mine. I… There was… In the forest"

"Cissy let him breathe" my father soothes, "Now Draco, explain yourself properly" he commands once my mother is seated again. I nod and try to continue – the best lies are always the ones closest to the truth, so I decide to go with that.

"I went for a walk in the forest after breakfast, and there were muggles there, hunting in our forest" I began to explain trying to be calm and collected about my next announcement.

"How many Draco" father cut in hurriedly. I responded in turn,

"3."

"Alright, quickly Draco you must take us to where you last saw them so that we can kill them before they get too far and get us into trouble." He states in a business like manner.

"No" I splutter out to a very sharp look from my father, and Bellatrix looks ready to pounce on me. So I rush on, "I mean, that is not necessary… they… they aren't getting away." I should be proud of what I've done, I should be announcing it to my family boldly as if I had caught my first fish or aced my first test – The former of which had been another total disaster all in itself, as being 4 at the time I had never realised that fish didn't like being caught, and certainly I didn't know that it would be killed. That was not a proud achievement; I cried for hours and was disciplined very harshly… Perhaps that is it, I'm just not very good at dealing with these life milestones.

"If you are sure they are secured Draco that is good. Your uncle and I shall eradicate them later" Father said as he relaxed himself slightly. Accepting that I have no ability to act pleased about my accomplishment I announce to the tabletop as I play with the upholstery on the back of my chair,

"That won't be necessary either." I say softly and have to clear my throat because my voice was getting too low, "They're already dead."

"**You **killed them?!" An excited Bella bursts out. I can only nod in response, not really up to meeting anyone's eyes. Then my father puts his hand on my shoulder and I am forced to find his gaze.

"You're sure they are dead Draco" he asks calmly.

"_Ooh very_" I reply in a tone that implies an inside joke… but I have only myself to share it with.

My father beams at me and embraces me tightly again. Then all my family are up around me, giving me their praise and congratulations. A firm pat on the shoulder from Uncle and a meaningful, "Well done", Rodolphous is a man of few words these days, but I still like him and remember the days when he used to tell me stories on the lounge-room floor.

Aunty gives me a real smile and pats my face fondly, "You took my advice well Draco, I only hope you continue in this mature strain. You are turning into a fine young man, I am proud of you."

"So am I" says my mother joyously as she glides past Bella to wrap me in her arms and kiss my forehead profusely, "My little baby has grown so fast!" she exclaims and I laugh – possibly because she's referring to me as an infant when I am 16, though more likely it is the laughter I withheld when my Aunt referred to her insane screaming and attempts to crucio me into submission of the noble teachings of the Dark Lord as 'advice'. Not that I'm prepared to tell her any different motive then my non-existent desire to be a death eater at this stage.

My father rescues me from mother's embrace and with a hand still resting on my back he announces that we shall go and collect the trophies. Mother rushes off to summon a camera and returns quickly with it to hand to uncle. Bellatrix is rearing to go also but father shakes his head at her and mother grasps her hand excitedly.

"Leave them to their male bonding Bella" she laughs, and if I knew it would keep that smile on her face and she would always be full of laughter, then I would kill again. For sure that it was worth it for the joy of my family. "We have a celebration to plan for tonight!" she said exuberantly to the moans of Aunty and the laugh of my father.

"Cissy we can't get such an event organised by tonight!" Bella intoned exasperatedly.

"Oh I have no doubt you will do a wonderful job" father concluded giving my mother a chaste kiss on the lips, "we will remove ourselves now, so we wont be in your way" he said smiling as he guided me out the door, Rodolophous following closely behind.

"Draco dear!" she calls out behind me as we are walking away, "What robes will you wear?"

"I don't mind Mum, whatever you choose" I call back, twisting my neck around my father's lazy embrace, then continuing in our walk towards the forest. I don't feel like I'll ever be able to get this beam off my face again… even the thought of looking like a happy fool forever doesn't seem to phase me right now.

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**Thanks to those who review/ed - phooey to those that dont :P''' **

**Next chapter: A drunk and disordery Draco denies dangerous Dark Lord Deatheaterdom. Dun Dun Duuuuun...**

**Katty xx**


	5. Ylva

**An update at last... a very long one and yet still it doesn't get up to where it was supposed to this chapter... oh well, that will just have to be suspense then I guess :D**

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There's a bit of a saying when it comes to formal robes, 'the more buttons, the more money', like, it's a sign of wealth to have intricately buttoned robes. Being particularly wealthy I'd have to say that aphorism is a huge pain in the arse. I'm supposed to be getting dressed but I got distracted the second I walked back into my room from the 'trophy collection' and went to get the pup out. The fact that the task of getting into **the **bloody most intricate robes I've ever come across was staring me in the face from my wardrobe door was a rather large factor in my distraction.

So now here I am sitting on a plush rug on the floor, my back leaning against the large bedpost and the pup sleeping quietly in my lap. Occasionally it will wrinkle its nose or flick a toe; it even makes a little sound – just every now and again – sort of like a bark combined with a growl. I'm obsessed; however, I'm struck with the notion that 'it' cannot simply remain 'the pup' forever. So gently, and feeling like a bit of a perv if I'm being completely honest with myself, I pick the pup up and search for… something.

Finding nothing but pale pink skin on its belly I'm led to assume it's a girl, that is supposing wolves and horses have the same sort of anatomy I guess. Besides, she's pretty like a girl any way.

"Yes you are" I whisper quietly to her, bringing her face to mine and kissing her nose lightly. She brings her tongue out and tentatively licks my nose back, the act so enchanting me I felt as if I could hug her hard enough so that no one could ever separate us, or take this away from me but they would… if they found out. This was quite likely to happen if I didn't hurry up and bathe and be ready for this nauseating 'celebration'.

So regretfully I gently placed the pup back in her draw and before wrapping the blanket around her I ran my hand down the soft grey fur of her back.

"Ylva", the name just suddenly came into my mind, and I knew it was right, just like that, the way it rolled off my tongue.

"My little silver Ylva" I whispered lovingly to her as I put the blanket around her and replaced the draw to the bottom of the trunk, before closing the lid and putting it all safely back under my bed. Then grudgingly I made my way to the bathroom.

I was not looking forward to tonight, the trophy collection had only cemented my resolution that in no way could it go well. My family are just so … funny. Like father, as soon as he saw the wolves and the men, he was so proud – and I know really he couldn't give a flying Frisbee about the wolves but he knows how I feel and so without ever voicing that fact he tried to comfort me over their death.

He collected all the wolf bodies up and told me he was going to have a blanket made for me to commemorate the occasion, because it was tragic to let such fine resources go to waste. That would translate in a normal persons speech to mean he was going to have the blanket made because he couldn't think of any other acceptable way to let me be closer to animals, which were beautiful and didn't deserve to die. He meant something like that anyway, and went on to talk about getting better wards for the forest so that muggles couldn't get so close to our house. Again, this would translate to; he was going to get wards to protect the animals in future so I wouldn't have to worry about them.

Then after Uncle had finished stringing the men's bodies up and we'd had our photo taken with 'my kills' he'd continued to speak to me in his own strange ideas of comfort about how with experience this sort of thing would become just another part of life. I have great faith in my Uncle's words, well actually I don't really believe him on that point, but in general he's the sort of man that doesn't say much, but when he does speak it's usually a good idea to listen. However, all he managed to do was make me very sure that I don't want to go tonight.

Why is because, as I had already had a niggling suspicion – **everyone** knows I'm weak and as soon as they see me at this party, no amount of exaggerated malice stories from my family and gruesome carcass pictures were going to change the fact that I'm still weak.

I'm not a killer, and one look at me proves that, it always has. I can't be who they want me to be… Though in a sort of way, I already am.

It is with great frustration that I plonk myself into the bath tub and ritualistically scrub myself clean with oatmeal soap and cherry flavoured bubbles – another one of my childhood secrets, which obviously was not exactly secret as I always tended to smell like cherries when I went out. No one ever says anything about it at least.

I don't bathe for long and am soon towelled dry and trying to worm my way into the intricate robes. Of course though they had to be precisely tailored and so I can't just pull any part of it over my head without undoing the damn buttons and you can't use magic on the stupid things either, because that's the poor man's way of doing things. 151 buttons later I'm finally into the stupid robe and looking every bit the aristocrat, albeit the pale, weak aristocrat… still one all the same.

I apply the necessary potions to my skin and hair and begin to walk out the room, casting a glance of farewell to the trunk under the bed. A goodnight hug won't hurt I decide and so I dash over to it and excitedly flick open the lid. Ylva is curled up in her draw still sound asleep. I try to stop the worry that gnaws at me over this, babies sleep a lot, that's what mother said when we went and visited our nursing cousin once. Bringing Ylva up into my arms I decide that as she is smaller then a baby, then logically she needs even more sleep than one of them.

Lovingly I press her against my chest and coo at her, my smile only broadening when she nuzzles me back and sniffles into my neck. Suddenly I feel a wet warmth spreading down my chest, and it isn't happiness. With a great sigh containing an overwhelming sense of horrendous acceptance I decide Fate hates me. Clearly she is Potter's whore.

With a final adoring kiss to Ylva's head I replace her in the trunk and secure it all back under my bed. Then I'm up and looking in the mirror, my robes are a disaster and I have less then a minute to get downstairs – I was fashionably late about two minutes ago.

I can't just magically clean the robes - that would create a far worse catastrophe as fabric shrunk and colours ran. Cleaning of such items was for professionals. I did not have the time to get in and out of 151 odd buttons again and certainly I did not possess the inclination to upset my mother by rejecting her fashion selection.

So I did the only thing I could think of – I cast a drying spell and hoped no one noticed the large and really almost unnoticeable watermark against the forest green of my robes. Then I bolted out of my room to be in time to make my 'grand' entrance.

Reaching the top of the staircase finally and beginning my most noble descent into the ballroom I hoped two things. Firstly, that it wasn't too obvious I had just run the way there from my room in the east wing and secondly, that Fate could just fuck off for the evening and go help Potter cry over his dead Godfather. Anything to keep her the heck away from this night so that I might stand a chance of getting out of it with some sort of reputation in tact.

As soon as I actually bother to scan the room properly, I realise the Dark Lord is there. I somewhat expected this… like… I somewhat expect to break a bone playing quidditch – just because it was likely doesn't make it certain and it definitely doesn't mean I look forward to it.

Of course though, he's the most important person in the room and therefore the first greeting I must make. I glide my way over to them, valiantly hoping to any deity that I don't mess this up but obviously I'm going nowhere – not even hell, because absolutely nothing offers to help me when I reach the Dark Lord and all I can manage is,

"Hello…" my brain gets stuck in a mental traffic jam. What on earth am I meant to call him? He isn't _my _Lord, he's not addressed as Dark Lord because that just sounds weird – and it's disrespectful to call him by his name. So what the hell am I supposed to call him? I go with the old staple "...Sir".

His lips twitch, I'm not sure what sort of twitch really. I mean with his reputation he could be laughing or he could be about to blow my head off. He's the wrinkly old man form of Bellatrix… and apparently he can read minds, and I just thought that! For Merlin's sake if this night got any worse I was not going to make it to seventeen.

I can see my father is repressing a sigh of exasperation, meanwhile Bella is repressing a crucio and I feel she's only repressing it so she can ask the Dark Lord for permission first.

Voldemort however remains quietly watching me, a smile lilting on his lips he simply says, "We must talk about your future later Draco. Perhaps you could meet me in the east-wing study at ten o'clock?"

I simply nod in response as I don't think I can trust myself to speak but my father has come to stand beside me and prods me sharply with his cane to indicate that I needed to answer.

"Yes sir" I answer but my father prods me more sharply "Dark Lord" I add on the end hastily. My father realising finally that I couldn't be trusted to speak stops prodding me and simply lays an arm across my shoulders in protective exasperation. If Voldemort is offended though, he makes no move to show it, if anything I'd say he looked pleased. He just smiles at my family and bidding us farewell moves off to mingle with the other members of society present at the celebration.

Forgetting about the Dark Lord for now I am led by my father to be introduced to any at the party I haven't yet met, or those that my father considered needed to take more notice of me – or I of them. This goes on for some time before I am at last free to mix on my own. Almost immediately I am accosted by Crabbe and Goyle and excitedly they drag me off down an empty hallway, pausing only when they reached a dark alcove. Crabbe then whips a large dark bottle out from his robes.

"It's malt firewhiskey" he tells me eagerly, "Dad let me have it especially for your little 'party'" he continues jokingly. I can't stand alcohol, I just don't like the taste, nor do I see the sense in impairing my faculties… but it's seen as a weakness and Crabbe thinks he's funny when he makes jokes about me not liking it.

"Your father just _let_ you take a whole bottle of his precious supply" I drawl back at him superiorly.

"Yeah actually, but he said just don't tell Malfoy senior cos he won't like it if he thinks we're proving his son can't hold his liquor" Goyle chimed in laughing loudly with Crabbe at my expense.

"Oh you are both entirely too hilarious" I dismiss them sarcastically, "I don't know what you think is so funny anyway – we've already tried firewhiskey and I held my liquor better then the pair of you if I recall."

"Yeah Malfoy cos you drink like a girl" laughs Goyle.

"Anyway, this isn't just firewhiskey – its malt firewhiskey!" Crabbe reiterates like its some amazing magical drink.

"I hardly think adding malt is going to make much difference to the stuff" I tell them acting disinterested. They only look at me in confusion, which is hardly rare enough for me to take any notice of.

"Just drink it you pussy" Crabbe laughs, pushing the bottle towards me. Reading the bottle's label from between his fingers I'm forced to hold back a chuckle. The people who make the damn labels are as dumb as trolls themselves – they can't even spell, it says 'molt firewhiskey'.

Feeling superior I grab the bottle from his hands and swiftly prying off the lid, take a large gulp. It is then that I realise very quickly that I am actually the dumb one this time. It's not 'malt' firewhiskey they're talking about and the bottle was spelt right because actually they meant molt… as in molten… as in oh so much worse then normal firewhiskey. All this I realised in the short space of time it took my entire digestive tract to melt.

Even I don't manage to hold onto my unaffected mask for more then a few seconds before I am coughing my lungs up and laughing along with the other boys. I laugh even harder when Vince has to spit his out because he can't take the burn. I wait until Greg has had his sip too and then I bid them goodbye as it's nearly time for me to meet the Dark Lord, other then my tongue being a little numb I'm perfectly fine – I only had one sip, albeit a very potent one.

I make my way towards the east study, going up a floor but not having to re enter the party at least. The upstairs hallway is completely empty when I enter it and so I continue towards the study.

It'd be just my luck that some how I run into Greyback coming out of an adjoining hallway. I don't know why he's there and I'm not bold enough to even glance at him suspiciously – the guy creeps me out, always has. I was hoping he would just leave me alone, but of course that was hardly likely – If I was a normal person I'd just learn to stop hoping.

"Draco, Draco" he tsk's huskily, and continues with a smile "Why aren't you at your own little party?"

"I have a meeting with the Dark Lord" I state officially and perhaps more gallantly then I needed, he knows I fear him. Greyback just chuckles darkly.

"Well then, there's no need for you to be in a hurry. Or alone in such an empty hallway – I'll get you to your meeting in time" He states in a voice that reminds me of a villain in a muggle story we had to read once for elementary school. It was about a little red girl who owned three pigs and they all got eaten by a scheming wolf… I think… It was something like that anyway. The point is, Fenrir is treating me like I'm that red girl, and I need to find myself a boy to cry at the wolf so he'll go away… or any distraction will do really.

"I'm quite adept at finding my way alone sir, it is my house" I state politely firm. He only smirks at my deference and assesses me with his eyes.

"But of course little one, you're all grown up now aren't you" He whispers sweetly mocking in reply. I repress a shudder and he continues, "You smell lovely this evening I must say"

"I'm glad my cologne appeases you sir but I really must be going" I state hurriedly. I can't help but stutter as he draws ever closer to me, making a show of leaning in close to sniff me. In abject horror I realise that he can probably smell Ylva's urine quite clearly… and being a werewolf with something of a 'reputation' I suppose that _would _be quite appealing to him. Sometimes I wish I could just melt into the floor, if any more of my blood supply went into my face I might just drop dead regardless – thoughts like this provide me with little comfort.

"Certainly Draco, but perhaps you can show me to the bathroom first?" he asks cunningly, knowing I am bound to by manners – even though _he _knows where the bathroom is… and he knows I know he knows and horridly – I know why too. You sink or you swim.

"Of course sir" I reply without stutter or hesitation, "Elf" I call, and immediately one pops into being before us. "Please escort Mr Greyback to the bathroom" I order and smiling, or rather smirking I bid, "Goodnight Mr Greyback."

"Goodnight Draco" he replies with a gruff laugh and a smirk of his own. I won and he respects me for it. That's how these circles work – you sink or you swim – and I swam, all by myself because that's just the way it's got to be for me.

Leaving him behind I continue on my way to meet the Dark Lord.

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**Hope you liked the chapter**

**Thanks to my reviewers - BelhavenOnTap, Noc007, SirenicGriffin and Warrior from beyond :)**

**Katty xx **


	6. Drunk and Disorderly

This most gigantic update pretty much ever from me is dedicated to Belhavenontap, for being such a good story follower, that she makes me keep writing the story on the computer as opposed to just running off with it in my head... and also to kittenonabroomstick, whose timely review reminded me that 'oh yeah I was doing that wasn't I'.

Enjoy, savour, have a merry christmas and refer to ending authour's note for reviewness:D

PS. get ur Draco doll's out cos he's gunna need a hug!

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Leaving him behind I continue on my way to meet the Dark Lord.

Two corridors later I am met by an almost welcome sight – my destination. Taking a deep breath I steel myself up to walk to that ebony door and open it but before I can even take a step there is a hand on my shoulder. I whirl around and have to bite my tongue to stop an avada kedavra coming out… while a slightly over the top impulse I dismiss it in favour of the interest that is my tingling tongue and lips for that matter. Meanwhile Professor Snape is standing before me, so mentally saving my curious mouth for later I address him instead.

"That'd be bloody right! Sneak up behind me now – Where were you 60 seconds ago?!" I whine audaciously. One look at Snape's eyes tells me that unless I was planning on ageing 20 years and being able to fight him to the death and win I had better not speak so disrespectfully again.

"Is something the matter Draco?" he drawls boredly, just reinforcing the lesson that he won't tolerate the act from me. Whatever, I wasn't about to apologise at any rate.

"It was just… nothing", I wanted to tell him. To be able to simply nonchalantly add, 'it was just Greyback, cracking on again but I'm fine, I dealt with it'. I can't say that though, I can never say anything like that and I don't know why. In a way it's because I think they know, and I shouldn't have to say. I mean, granted, Greyback never acts strangely towards me if there is anyone else about… but still – he's Greyback! I'm sure they know, obviously it's just not something I'm supposed to be so twitchy about, so there's no point me even mentioning it… really.

"You need to drink this Draco", he says simply, firmly, as he presses a phial into my palm, "it will calm you". I find that hard to believe, and worse, a quick glance at the phial reveals that it is an actual calming potion – the likes of which are said to react very badly with alcohol. However, as I am about 90 percent sure it won't kill me outright, and only 10 percent sure he won't, it takes me less then a second to decide I'd rather take my chances with the concoction then admit to Snape I'd had something to drink. So I downed the contents in one dignified gulp and handed him the phial back primly with about as much display of graciousness that any Malfoy should rightfully have.

"Stop biting your lips" I find him admonishing me.

I thought I had.

"I will not lie to you Draco, this won't be easy but your best plan of action is simply to answer truthfully what you must. Offer nothing else, and don't lie, especially do not lie – he will know if you do" Snape reiterated seriously.

"I wasn't planning on it", I replied disinterested. While I do actually possess a great amount of respect for the professor, he was still a half-blood and I was not inclined to let him any further into my real self then he already got from his position as a teacher and friend of my family. I figure that is where his concern comes from because the only other time we've ever had a private talk was the end of last term. He, I at least assume, was trying to counsel me about coping or some such rubbish to do with the incarceration of my father. I would have thought I made myself very clear during that conversation that Draco Malfoy was not the sort of person that needed to 'chat' about life's inane issues to deal with them and I most certainly did not need assistance with coping techniques!

However, perhaps I did not make myself quite clear enough, and to be honest, he did not appear entirely convinced of my diatribe at the time. I know though, that I am not some weak Gryffindor that wears their heart on their sleeve. Hopefully Snape will come to see that if I put him in his place enough.

"Good" says the professor finally with a sigh that is somewhere between exasperation and acceptance. He glides past me, resting his hand very briefly on my shoulder as he goes. The contact shocks me into rigidity, and without moving my body, my eyes follow him down the hall, utterly disconcerted. I don't really know if he was well-meaning or not, but the fact of the matter is, my weeping mother at the door, asking what embellishment I should like on my tombstone could not have disjointed my confidence more. General student consensus had 'the day Professor Snape was nice' wagered to prelude the apocalypse, aka the end of the world. So I guess really it could come as no surprise that it only meant my very own, personalised apocalypse.

I simply 'harrumphed' in dull acceptance, the ironic humour drawing me out of my stupor. Once again I placed my hand on the knob, this time quietly turning, opening the door and stepping valiantly through. It is only as I look up to see Voldemort eyeing me from the chair, with perhaps a slight flicker of surprise, that I realise I forgot to knock. I freeze and blink stupidly at him like a muggle being hexed, as I vehemently but mentally curse at Snape for distracting me with every rude word I know, including a few I didn't, and throwing in some I definitely shouldn't.

"Do come in Draco" says the Dark Lord calmly, rising from my father's dark leathered, wing-backed chair with that lilt again present on his lips. I gather myself and stride forward, trying to force nonexistent saliva down my dry throat. Reaching a few feet in front of him I bow, I only meant to bow low, but as I bent the ground seemed to reach out and pull my eyeballs down and so I end up half falling, half… not, onto the ground on all fours. I try to make myself feel better with positive thoughts of – it was elegant, and it makes me look properly subservient and apologetic after not knocking. I don't manage to fool myself, but stay fearfully prostrate on the floor all the same.

"You may rise Draco" says the Dark Lord, without any hint of malice.

"I may, but I can't" I laugh out on the floor. The realisation that the words actually came out of my mouth hits me immediately and I slam my lips together, my face a total mask of panic as I spring up from the floor. Suddenly however, the ground seems to be trying to outsmart me be jumping sideways and making me look like a fool in front of Voldemort – well I sure showed it! I leapt right after it, and found it by barrelling headfirst into the hardwood base of the heavy couch. Some part of my brain recognises why it's on the floor, mostly though my head just hurts and in my anger at the couch I growl,

"Avada Kedavra" I didn't even realise that I had gotten my wand out. A diminutive 'eep' escapes my lips, as simultaneously I throw the offending wand away from myself and a strong emerald light explodes the green leather and polished wood couch into hundreds of tiny chunks, all which ricochet into the surrounding bookshelves – basically annihilating the entire right half of the room.

For a moment I can do nothing but stare slack-jawed at the destruction I had just caused, and then, unable to help it, I burst into hysterical laughter. This entire day was just one giant disaster, a total nightmare, I could not have planned to screw the whole thing up better if I had tried and surely there was nothing left that I could possibly do to make it worse.

I hoped.

I'm always a fool when it comes to getting my hopes up though.

One second I was laughing, the next I vomited all over the floor. I never even felt it coming, but the fact that I had made things yet worse still, sure as Merlin sobered me up a little. Voldemort let out a breath in what could almost be described as a sigh.

"Entertaining display though it was Draco", he said flicking his wrist and restoring the room to its previous utter perfection, minus destruction or vomit "I should like to discuss some matters with you now" he concluded, without either spite or sympathy for me as I lay sprawled on my back, where the returning and restored couch had just knocked me.

"Yes sir" I nodded from my position as a dead starfish. Groggily I clawed my way onto the seat of the couch, sitting rigidly polite as I waited for him to speak, pleased that my brain was co operating well enough now to have provided at least one decent answer. Decent enough, it was a start at least.

"I had not realised you were so inclined to celebrate tonight Draco" he said, reading my downturned face with his eyes, searching.

"Oh I wasn't celebrating" I responded quickly, too quickly "with alcohol…" I built on slowly trying to save myself "I was celebrating with my friends, who happened to have alcohol, of which I drank some". I chanced a glance at his eyes, happy with the cleverness of my answer.

"Some?" he questioned, a full blown smile on his face. I was terrified, I hadn't even lied.

"Yes but it reacted badly with a calming potion I took" I blurted quickly out of the side of my mouth, turning my head away as I said it. Though I could not help my eyes that slid back to meet his, to try and gauge his reaction – he was still smiling, I figured I was dead.

"Had I realised you had already made plans yourself, I would not have asked Severus to… assist you" Voldemort chose his words carefully, it almost seemed like this was a joke to him. I suppose when you can kill an army over your morning cereal maybe vomiting becomes funnier… I don't really see how, but I guess it might be possible. I shouldn't have let my mind get distracted though, because while I was thinking about the cereal choices available to a dark lord my mouth had run off without me and let out a snort, followed by this cracking response,

"Ha! I assure you I never plan anything" I was doomed, doomed to die by my own tongue!

"Certainly Draco I have come to notice that you possess little control over your actions… and speech", the Dark Lord added, speaking deliberately, "Your, 'damage control' as they call it however, is always most admirable" he concluded.

I got the feeling he needed a new dictionary however, as he had the words admirable and morbidly entertaining confused – but the way he spoke, his every vowel emphasis just had me on edge. It was like he knew something, or spoke of something else in particular… but I had never handled any important affairs on my own, nor done anything exemplary or otherwise that could have drawn his attention. Unless of course he was referring to the three dead muggles, but that was hardly damage control… from his perspective that would be sport.

"Would you perhaps like a cup of tea Draco? It might improve you condition" Voldemort asked politely, but there was just the slightest hint of danger made present in his voice at his distaste for my inability to focus. Now I say 'hint' but metaphorically speaking of course, that hint of danger was like just a single sharp pin… hurtling towards me in a raging tornado – I was going to pull myself together if it killed me, or before it killed me rather.

"No Sir. Thank-you Sir. Sorry Sir" I blurted out all at once, managing to keep a straight face over my disappointment for making myself sound like a babbling fool once again. The Dark Lord however was smiling once more.

"Might I perhaps make an observation Draco?" he asked politely, for all the world as if I could, or Merlin-forsaking me _would _say no. I could do nothing but stare at him blankly with my tongue firmly clamped to the roof of my mouth so as not to release any of the aforementioned sentiments into the verbal realm. Eventually after the mini Draco's of my conscious had band together and danced around my tongue, pointing their sharp mini wands and making heinous threats to the roiling beast in their high octave voices, I managed to stutter simply.

"Of course Sir." He just continued to stare at me for a time, the lilt that suggested he was amused by something more present again, before he continued to speak.

"You are you mother's son" Voldemort says profoundly, and I am forced to turn a snort into a throat clearing cough, sending up a cheer amongst the mini Draco's for managing to hold in the 'well I should think so'. Luckily for me I assume the Dark Lord is happy to ignore me while he continues his monologue.

"For all that you endeavour to look, speak and act like your father – you think like your mother, and so, you are your mother."

So now I'm not sure if he's calling me a mummy's boy or saying I act like a woman… but the way he says it, it sounds like a good thing and not an insult… so I'm completely boggled as to what I'm supposed to answer.

"Ummm" I begin, uncomfortable with the lengthening silence, "Well, most people usually do not phrase my weaknesses as kindly… so… thank you?" I say unsurely.

"I by no means meant it as a weakness Draco" the Dark Lord states firmly, "your mother is a very powerful woman."

"Yes but she _is _a woman… and I am not… supposed to act… like one" I answer haltingly, my voice teetering off as I lose the courage I had when I first replied quickly, before careful consideration of my words.

"True power is not influenced by sex" Voldemort replies knowingly. Immediately I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks and I have to stare at the floor. I know what he meant, but still just hearing him say that one little word, especially after we were just talking about my mother… I just… It was just… gah! If I giggled, I would kill myself before he so much as twitched in my direction – that was the threat I used to stay stoic.

"I think Draco, you might wish to age _considerably_ before you next attempt to drink… for whatever reasons" The Dark Lord says into the silence, and I let out the breath I must have been holding in and laugh shortly, because finally he was speaking in a tone I understood – sarcasm. What is more, _The_ Lord Voldemort was actually making a joke.

"I'm sorry" I tell him sincerely, managing to look him in the eyes again, "I never meant for this to happen" I conclude making weak encompassing gestures with my hands.

"Why did you kill those muggles Draco?" he asks me quietly, calculatingly.

"Because I could. Because they were muggles." I scoffed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Voldemort just looks at me piercingly.

"That Draco, is the sort of attitude my death eater's spout – but you are not yet one of those, so I do not expect you to answer as one of them. Do not tell me what you think I want to hear, tell me what I asked." He said it calmly, but it was a different calm to before, more considered, dangerous. It felt a little as if it was the calm before the storm.

"I… they were…" I was stuttering again, knowing that I couldn't really tell him the truth, but I wanted to. I was forced to think fast to get something more believable out, "I was angry at them for being in our forest, and I thought I would be able to handle them myself, so I did." I finished simply.

"Crucio" was my only reply from him, and I writhed on the chair in agony for a few seconds, but I didn't make a sound. When I became aware of my surroundings again I realised that Voldemort had come to sit down next to me, and also that I was now lying halfway down the couch. I must say though that I was actually quite a bit more relaxed from the curse, it wasn't like I'd never felt a crucio before but it's a bit like before you have to do a blood ritual, and you know the knife is going to hurt, really it doesn't hurt that bad but you just get so worked up over it, then after the first cut, it just doesn't seem like such a big deal anymore. However, the curse had also made me a tiny bit drowsy, that could have something to do with the slightly more relaxed feelings too.

"I am sorry to have to hurt you Draco, but I would much prefer to break you of the habit now then have to dispose of you later because I can't trust you to give a straight answer" the Dark Lord drawls benevolently. I nod my head at him that I understand, partially because I'm not sure that I am allowed to speak, but mostly because he has taken to stroking my head – and Merlin help me, I don't care how likely he was to kill me, I would not stand to be petted!.

He takes the hint and stops stroking my hair, but he doesn't remove his hand altogether, the pressure on my forehead like the most annoying itch in the world that I just can't scratch.

"Your Father, your Aunt and Uncle and even to my great surprise, Severus – have all come and spoken to me on your behalf tonight Draco." He says calmly, as if chatting to a friend, "They all tell me the same things in a roundabout way. That you are young, headstrong, hot tempered and occasionally very foolish"

"Nice" I mumble from my position on the couch. Voldemort glances at me briefly with that damn lilt again, and resumes stroking my hair. I react to the movement though and flinch away automatically, I lay my head back down again straight away, expecting to be punished but he doesn't say anything, just lays his hand unmoving again on my forehead. I wonder briefly if I wouldn't just prefer he punished me instead of touching me.

"They also say" he continued as if no interruption had occurred, "that you are of the most noble breed of purebloods, very loyal to the cause, and if I could just leave you alone for a few years, just ignore you, that you would make a fine servant one day."

'What a wonderfully shining review' I say sarcastically to myself this time, not really in the mood to try the response with him.

"But Draco" he says amusedly, tapping my head to make me meet his eyes, "I don't want to leave you alone, and I certainly do not see any benefit in ignoring you."

Great, now I was downright uncomfortable to be within three meters of the man, and sure a lifetime of avoiding awkward altercations with Greyback might have had me overly sensitive to these things, but I wanted out of this room, right now. I couldn't help shifting uneasily as he continued speaking.

"I had to seek out you mother to get her opinion", he said, apparently in ignorance of my rustling, "admittedly I was very curious that she had not sought me out herself, for in all honesty I expected she would come to me in tears and beg for your life."

I snorted at that, I didn't mean to, but the man obviously didn't know my mother very well, and Black's never did something as lowly as beg!

"Quite right Draco" he said, not in the least malevolent at my outburst. I was increasingly confused by his present demeanour.

"I was very wrong about your mother, for when I asked her to tell me about you she said only that you are very loyal to your family, that you would do whatever you thought was necessary for the good of your family. That Draco is why I think you are like your mother - you share a certain intelligence, an understanding of reality that is unburdened by pointless optimism. I realised after that Draco that you know, and have always known that you would become my servant and I am glad, because that means that I need never question your loyalty. Which Draco, is the most important thing to me, not whether or not you can keep your thoughts to yourself or control your actions all of the time." He smiled at me as he said that, but it only made me more on edge, so he continued.

"Know Draco, that I will mark you tonight, regardless of what you say or do, I believe you will be a good Death Eater, and right away, there is nothing… much at fault with your current maturity." The Dark Lord was forced to correct himself, probably because of the whole 's-word' thing.

"What I would like to know however" he said looking intently down at me, "is why you are so opposed to me. Is it because of your _headstrong_ nature that you call me 'sir' and refuse to acknowledge me as your Lord? Or something more? Do you not like this path you see before yourself? Why is it you cannot bare to be near me? He all but hissed in conclusion. I shot straight up into a sitting position, so I could meet his sharply curious eyes with my own panicked ones.

"It's not you!" I stutter, hopelessly trying to gather my thoughts to explain myself, "I do like you… no I mean, I wasn't calling you sir because I don't like you. I just didn't know what to call you… I thought, I thought – oh I don't know what I thought but it just didn't feel right to call you my lord when I wasn't a death eater… and I thought you'd be angry at me if I called you Lord Voldemort" I flinched then at the words that had fallen out of my mouth but he merely nodded his understanding, which I took as a gesture to continue.

"And it's like you said, I've always known that I would be your servant eventually. Which honestly, when I was younger and you weren't around, I thought was a stupid thing… especially because all the followers had a big ugly tattoo" I cringed a little, waiting briefly to be reprimanded, but it didn't come so I continued, "but one day I had a fight with my father, and I told him he was stupid to follow you and stuff" again I glanced to check I wasn't in trouble, "he just said that I was being a foolish child, and punishment for being foolish is learning why you are foolish – so he locked me in the dungeon with every piece of literature we had on you and a bucket of water and refused to let me out for any purpose until I had written a satisfactory essay on why what I had said was foolish. It was three and a half days before I read everything and finished that essay, granted I spent most of the first day sulking, but I learnt a lot from it and it enabled me to make my own decisions, have my own opinions."

I got up from the couch then, albeit a bit groggily and unsteadily, but it only took me a second to get my balance then I was able to teeter over to my father's desk, knowing exactly where I was going. I opened the middle draw of the mahogany study table and had to ruffle through the papers a bit, eventually I found what I was looking for, though I don't know how I managed to, what with the way all the papers of the draw seemed to dance in circles in front of me. Grabbing the paper I headed back to the couch, and handing it gingerly to Voldemort, who plucked it far more daintily from my grasp, I collapsed back into my previous position beside him.

"My father said it was the best thing I'd ever written and that he would always keep it – I mean I was only 10 so I guess it has a particular sentimentality for him. I thought though, that you should read it, in case you had any doubts about what path I would have chosen, was I not a Malfoy." Voldemort smiled up at me over the top of the paper he was reading after that, and I felt that it was a genuinely amused smile, one not born of malice.

"And the top reason of all that we should follow the Dark Lord", he quoted slowly, drawing it out in his amusement, "is because he has a pet snake as his best friend which makes him really cool", immediately I felt my whole face go red, but I still had to laugh at my ten year old self – I really was quite cute, don't know why more people don't say that about me.

"I take it you like my Nagini Draco?" he said amiably.

"No" I lied, spectacularly over defensive. Voldemort released an obvious sigh, crucioed me briefly, but didn't say anything about it. I assume he was just pointing out that I wasn't supposed to lie to him. He continued the conversation though as if nothing had happened – it wasn't as if in my rippling pain I had rolled off the couch and was now awkwardly sitting at his feet… wait yes it was, and that damned hand was on my head again!

"I take it you were raised very traditionally Draco" the Dark Lord stated calmly.

"Yes" I verified simply, unsure whether or not I should be attempting to get back in the chair.

"By the circles theory?" he asked curiously.

"Yes…" I replied evenly, not sure where he was going with this.

"It must be hard for you then, I must confuse you a lot" Voldemort stated, with a tone that was borderline sympathetic.

"You do, yes" I answered him carefully.

"Who is in your first circle Draco" Voldemort asked as if discussing what frog cards I had accumulated.

"My mother and father" I said plainly, tilting my head so that I could try to read his face. It remained an inscrutably curious mask.

"What about your aunt and uncle?" he asked.

"Oh well they are too of course… technically I mean" I stammered trying to make myself make sense, "it's just that I only really just met them in person and stuff… and I did have a lot of photos and pensieve things, so I knew them already… but it's not the same and I'm not very good with people being close" I concluded very pointedly, hoping he would get the message… if he did he ignored it though.

"And where do I feature in your circles Draco" he continued nonchalantly.

"Umm, as my father's boss and a friend of the family" I said to him honestly, I hoped that it didn't offend him, but that is how I think of him generally.

"That was a wise conclusion for you to have come to as a child" Voldemort praised me generously, "where do you think your father places me in his circles?" he continued, asking me astutely. I thought about it for a second but could come to no decent conclusion.

"I'm sorry, but I really wouldn't know" was all I could answer. He stretched his lips horizontally in what could perhaps be described as a triumphant smirk.

"I think then Draco, that this is where all of your confusion and hesitation begins. You just cannot place what you have seen, and how you know you should act towards me in with everything else that you have been taught." I just sort of nodded at his words from my position on the floor, trying to beat down the moronic bubble of hope that kept attempting to rise inside myself. The one that heard his words as something other then the pointless (though highly skilled) manipulations he was known for, and dared to think that something good was coming.

"Take off your robes Draco" he asked me plainly.

"What?!" I choked, flinching at the mere question. He remained silent though, just waiting for my compliance I guess – frankly I could care less if he had to wait until hell froze over, I would be doing no such thing… but then I came to my senses and realised he needed to mark me. "Oh, right… yeah" I said, faking nonchalance and fumbling my way through the exorbitant number of buttons that made up my attire. As I already felt sheepish enough for overreacting in the first place, I didn't bother to question why I couldn't simply just roll up my sleeve. It took me a while, but eventually I had undone all the buttons and was able to slip my shoulders out of the robe, then hoping he couldn't see my face, I scrunched my eyes closed in sheer embarrassed determination to follow through and not fall down and raised myself from the ground. Taking my time so as not to have to face him, I removed the robe entirely from myself and carefully folded it. Walking with tenacious steps across the rolling floor, I deposited the robe across my father's empty chair, and steadying my breath, turned to face him.

I focused my eyes steadfastly above his head, I could not meet his gaze, and I stood stoically, as I had been taught, clearing my mind of everything and breathing steadily so as not to show a sign of discomfort. I knew however that I was blushing all over, I could feel it – from the tips of my prissy little toes to the very end of my platinum coloured hair. I was wearing my usual black shorts, so it wasn't as if he could see anything… but still, the sooner this was over, the better.

"You have been taught Draco, that your first circle is for family only. Taught that they and they alone are the people you can confide in, can trust to be close, can trust to be safe" he said slowly, his gaze unwavering from my eyes, even though I wouldn't meet it. "I am neither your family, nor a part of your pure blood tradition but my servants trust me in this same way, and I expect you to trust me in this same way. Do you understand?" he asked me imperially.

I shook my head 'no', not capable of speech. My head was pounding, the world was spinning and the only thing keeping me upright was my fear of whatever it was the Dark Lord was talking about, which was turning me into an emotional wreck, though I couldn't show it.

"Then Draco I will simply teach you to trust me" he sighed, "and perhaps then you will understand it." I just nodded stiffly to show I was listening.

"Come and sit down" he said calmly, gesturing to my empty space beside him. I move to comply, noticing as I do that his gaze doesn't leave my face, he's not like Greyback in that he at least does not assess my body. As I attempt to resume my old spot however, he grabs my wrist.

"No Draco, close" he says, tugging me towards him. I nearly tumble onto him, but by pure will power alone I manage to keep my balance and wrench back from him.

"No, I won't" I say clearly, anxiously trying to pull back further and free my wrist from his one armed grip.

"Sush Draco, relax, sit down" he says gently, all the while his deceptively weak looking hand is managing to drag my already unsteady form closer.

"No, don't, stop it, I don't want to, let go!" I tell him, somewhat loosing my battle to stay emotionlessly calm, as I shake my head incessantly at him and continue to pull away.

"Draco…" he says in a warning tone, but I can't help it, I just keep shaking my head 'no' and pulling away. However, I completely lost any emotional control I had when he succeeded in grabbing my wrist and pulling me down.

"FUCK OFF" I scream at him and wrench myself away. Immediately I feel the blast of crucio and enter the blissfully unknowing world of pain. When I'm again conscious of my surroundings I realise that Voldemort has his arm wrapped around my bare chest pinning me to himself. Involuntarily I release a strangled cry from the back of my throat and throw my body into attempting to free myself from his grasp.

"Ah ah ah! Draco" he says reprimanding me and somehow managing to hang on to my writhing body. "Stop it…" he warns.

"No! no no no no no" I find myself chanting in some sort of mantra, sometimes yelling, other times just saying it quietly, continuously.

"Petrificus totalis" he intones, and I am forced to be a still as a block of cement.

"See now Draco that's better" he says gently as he rubs my chest in what I'm sure he assumes is a comforting way. I can't cope and I'm humiliated as there is nothing I can do to stop the tears that are suddenly rolling down my face.

"How this is going to work Draco", he says quietly, "is that I will release you and if you fight, when you fight, I will punish you briefly and then hold you still with magic, so you can have a breathing space to think, then I will release you again and so it will continue until you learn. Do you understand? He finished calmly, releasing the spell.

"No I don't understand!" I cried loudly, my breath coming out in hyperventilating gasps. If anything I fought harder to be free of his 'plan'. True to his word I was hit by another crucio, and before I was even fully aware of my consciousness again, I was paralysed once more by that wretched immobilizing spell. This time though my writhing under the pain curse had ended me up lying on my stomach, so Voldemort rubbed my back for a minute instead.

So it continued, five more times of having my back or belly rubbed depending on how the crucio left me. Each time I only fought harder, cried harder, yelled louder and got more worked up. I don't know why I couldn't just learn, I don't even know or understand what it is that I'm actually afraid of, it's not a panic I can control and it certainly isn't a fear I just chose. I had tried everything I could think of to free myself – tried thinking, and moving away slowly, tried overpowering him, tried for an element of surprise but nothing would work.

On the 6th time that I had been released I managed to stay still long enough to yell at him in my choked and gasping voice.

"I lied about the muggles I killed them because they killed the wolves and I like animals – is that what you want me to say?!"

He simply shook his head, and after I was immobilized for my 6th attempt at freedom he replied to me.

"I already knew about the muggles Draco, and the wolves – that you liked animals. Your father told me because he trusts me with your 'family secrets' you see? I'm glad you told me though Draco that was good of you, you are making progress." He answered me benevolently and released the spell for the 7th time.

"NO I DON'T SEE" I screamed back at him, huge sobs and gasps for air wrenching my breathing as I struggled against him, "why are you doing this to me?" I wailed before a crucio took me again.

"It will all make sense Draco once you learn" the Dark Lord said calmly, as even within the restraints of the petrifaction my body was wracked by convulsions from prolonged cruciatious and my inability to breathe. Vomited bile that had nowhere to go with my locked mouth and blocked nose, leaked down my face and choked me, stinging terribly everything it touched until I was released again and actually kept still long enough to spit up onto the floor and gasp for air. It was short lived though and once again I was vigorously back into the fight – an eighth, ninth, tenth and eleventh times.

I was so tired, only the relentless fears of what intentions the Dark Lord had with my submission had me continue to fight blindly. Then finally during the twelfth time I was immobilized it all just clicked. Voldemort was wiping the sweat and tears from my face with his hands when he said just by coincidence,

"It's alright Draco, we have got all night and no one can hear us, you are going to be fine and I am not going anywhere."

Once when I was very young and had dragon pox, I remember my father wiping my forehead to try and help my fever, and he said something very similar to me at the time. Well at least similar enough for me to finally make the connection between the two and realise the Dark Lord wasn't going to hurt me, he just wanted me to treat him like I would treat my father.

I know that he had basically been saying that all along – that he wasn't going to hurt me, he just wanted my trust. It was a bit like an arithmancy problem though, it never mattered how simple everyone said it was, or how many times I was shown how to do it, until I had my own epiphany on how to work out the solution, I could never get them out.

So on the twelfth time I was released, I didn't fight. I simply pushed my face into the side of the couch and cried as he ran his hands over me. My muscles tensed to the point of tearing when he moved his hands below my waist, but I knew that it was just a test, to see if I would trust him. Therefore I kept still and allowed him to run his hand down my leg, all the way to my toes and back up again. The entire while I could hear him muttering soothing praise filled words at me, but I couldn't really understand them, what with my head currently buried and all.

Gently he pulled my head away from the side of the couch and guided my body to lay face up, propped against him so he could look at my face.

"Do not be ashamed of yourself for this Draco. What you achieved tonight was very difficult and I am most pleased with your results" he said regally, laying his cool hand across my hot, tear-streaked face. I could only sniff and nod at him, gone as I was beyond the realms of capable speech.

"I am going to mark you now Draco", he said sounding quite pleased with himself, "it might hurt a little" he continued amusedly.

It might have, but I wouldn't know – I was struggling with my tired mouth to do more then 'hmm' my approval of receiving the mark… and I think really, that I was probably unconscious before he even finished speaking.

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So did you like it?

Sorry if there are a lot of mistakes... as it is nearly 4 am and I just wanted to update for you all :D, you shall just have to excuse me.

I'm curious this chapter as to how my Voldemort is percieved, he tends to be the OOC bane of my fanfiction writing existence... I really do try to keep him in character, but the slippery little sucker always seems to worm his way out of it!

Thoughts? Comments? What is Santa bringing you? lol

Katty xx


	7. Dawn of today

**... This is such an awful chapter after you had to wait so long... sorry... please don't hate me! lol blame biochemistry, it's my new excuse for anyone with any of life's problems (eg: "I'm fat" - that's because of ur biochemistry, "I'm depressed" - that's because of ur biochemistry, "I can't find easter eggs in a supermarket" - hmm that's because ur stupid, which is because of ur biochemistry!!!)**

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I have no idea at which point I actually woke up this morning, and which points were purely dreams. At one stage I dreamt that it was nearly dawn outside, a pale pink light seemed to be flooding my room when I opened my eyes. I was tucked into bed and feeling dreadfully ill, so I thought to get up to be sick, but instead I went back to sleep.

Really, I'm not sure if this had been a dream or not, but right now, as I groggily tried to open my eyes and focus on being/staying awake, it seemed I was not in my bed. Unable to muster the self control to physically open my eyes, I tried to deduce where I was from memories and logical assumption. Clearly I was not in my bed as whatever surface I was lying on was both very hard and cold – except where it had obviously been in prolonged contact with my body warmth. So I tried to work backwards through my memories, wondering why I wouldn't be in my bed. Immediately I had a flashback of coughing and laughing over 'Molten Firewhisky', a party… for…?

More flashbacks of running in the forest, aunty yelling at me, muggles killing wolves, me sending bits of muggle flying, and casting the killing curse. Finally with dawning, panicked realisation my mind landed on Voldemort and my eyes wrenched open of their own accord, anxiously taking in dark stone all around me. Full of fear I pushed myself quickly off the ground, having to close my eyes again as the sudden blood rush caused my vision to blur and I swayed on the spot, staggering into the wall to hold on and stay upright. I was breathing heavily, trying to pull strength from the wall, almost hysterical about what I could have done so wrong to end up in the dungeons. I did not actually remember anything fully, only flashes, all in that dream like state of maybe, maybe not true… I was unsure of precisely what had happened and in what order.

Releasing a desolate whimper and sniffing pathetically, I opened my eyes once again, now that the dizziness had passed, to survey my prison. Only to be struck dumb. I wasn't in the dungeon, I was in my bathtub!

"How in Merlin's name did I end up in my bathtub?!" I wondered to the world at large. Looking around as I climbed out the side of the tub and saw the trail from my bed to the bathroom, a possible picture began to form in my mind. It was not a good picture though; it looked likely to be highly embarrassing, possibly quite painful and probably entirely unbecoming for a pureblood of my status.

The sheets seemed to mostly have been torn off my bed in what appears to be an attempt to get out that had been fumbled by tripping over my trunk and then continuing onto the floor below the raised dais my bed resided on. I hated to consider the pain I either did not feel, or simply was yet to remember. There was a stain on the floor I didn't want to think about but I couldn't help but smell myself and flush with embarrassment. The stain continued in a dripped trail of sorts, until just after the corner of the dais where a larger and final stain seemed to indicate I had stopped – or rather fallen again, over the corner of the dais and stayed down.

Tentatively giving my toes a wriggle I was pleased to find they didn't hurt, because much past experience told me tripping over that stupid corner in the dark usually did injure them greatly. I sighed in resigned agitation at myself, glancing at the rest of the evidence - A disgusting path of vomit that started just inside the bathroom door… I figured the need to be sick must have been what woke me up again. By the looks of things, whatever logic I'd been in possession of at the time had led me to try and vomit in the bathtub, assumedly I had ended up falling in myself.

Well, at least now I knew how I'd ended up in the bathtub… How I came to be tucked up safely in bed, with my wand lying innocently on the bedside table and my formal robes from the night before folded neatly over the study chair, was an entirely more concerning matter. Although, I had fallen 5ft headfirst - so maybe it was not 'entirely more' concerning, but definitely it was still concerning in its own right.

Rolling my eyes at myself I stripped out of my soiled clothes and threw them with particularly fine aim into the laundry hole. It was only then as I turned towards the bedside table to grab my wand and begin casting cleaning charms that I remembered Ylva, and I mean properly remembered. With everything so hectic yesterday, and my blind joy at simply finding her alive, I never even once considered that she needed more then a safe place to live!

I rushed over to the trunk, my heart felt as if it was trying to pound out of my throat and the thought that after everything, I had left her to suffer and die alone anyway out of my own stupidity was not helping matters. Steeling myself I threw open the lid of the trunk, but so forcefully was I hit by the foul acidic odour on the inside of the trunk, my weak stomach was throwing up bile and dry retching all over the floor before I even got a chance to look inside. I was sure then, that Ylva was dead. Retching could do nothing to expel the heavy despair that settled in my stomach at that realisation.

I don't know why it even mattered, she would have died anyway… should have died yesterday, she would have been happier with her family, I'd only really made things worse… this was just another Draco mess up.

I managed to stop my stomach convulsions and lay my head on the corner of the open trunk, where I couldn't smell inside. Thoroughly ill all over, I couldn't bring myself to open my eyes and look upon the last real shred of hope I had managed to possess in a long time… well more to say, that she had been my last hope for hopefulness. Wasn't that the folly in itself though?!

I should never have hoped! I should never have tried to do something that I was not supposed to do! I was not meant to have attachments, they would only make me weak and I could ill-afford to be seen as any weaker then I already am!

I was so angry at myself, so angry at the stinging that lingered behind my eyes, which dared threaten me, when it knew very well I was not allowed. I was not allowed to cry. Yesterday I had. Yesterday I had hoped for a future I should not want, I had loved a creature that I should not acknowledge and I had cried because there was no one there to see me break the rules.

But that was yesterday, and things had to be different now if I was going to survive the Dark Lord.

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**K, so hopefully it wasn't too bad from a writing perspective... I got sick of being stuck on a section, hence the cliffy-ness, feedback gives me inspiration :) Though I should point out, as far as my profile message is concerned - I'm still dead lol**

**Katty xx **


	8. Bath time

**AN: Yay an update! Thanks guys for your reviews, hope you enjoy the chapter... **

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It's hard to say just how long I sat there, feeling utterly miserable with the world at large. In refusing to allow myself to cry, but still being too ill to get up – tears, snot and drool had all managed to trail down the side of my aching face, but I didn't care, didn't even really notice. That was until I heard the squeaking… I assumed I had lost the fight with myself not to cry, and that I squeaked while doing so – which really, given my state of mind was not such a stretch of patheticisim.

It still made me bloody angry with myself though! So I wrenched my head up off the trunk and viciously swiped away the fluid on my face, and then I looked. There was Ylva, scrabbling at the side of the trunk, making her funny squeaky bark, trying to get to me.

I was beyond elated, it was as if the last few moments had never even happened, and if I remembered at all those thoughts that told me what I was doing keeping Ylva was a giant mistake… then I remembered them in the same place that I knew my family were mostly murderers and my life was not my own. It wasn't a place I visited often. There are a lot of those sorts of places in my mind, but apparently it's why I'm naturally good at occulemency, that's what Aunty says at any rate.

I whisk Ylva out of the trunk and hold her to my naked chest, she's covered in… well shit to be blunt, which I guess explains the smell, but I don't care! I just need to feel her breathing, to know she's warm, alive! I don't even feel sick anymore, it's like every care I had just up and floated away.

Actually, wait… no, that's not quite true. Obviously my stomach decided it had enough of the smell yet again, and there I was dry retching on the floor anew. So I still felt sick, it didn't matter anymore the world was an ok place again, the kind with hopes and futures and possibilities!

'_You're setting yourself up to fail'_, wailed that all knowing voice that resided with the facts I denied in the back of my mind. I ignored it completely and dragged myself up off the floor, with Ylva cradled to my chest. I then staggered over to my wand, and ignoring the screaming and pounding in my aching head, I cast cleaning charms everywhere – stripping the bed, cleansing the carpet and tiles… and bathtub. Finally I managed to get to my wardrobe, and threw some clean linen atop the bed, which promptly made itself.

Then I was back, struggling to stay upright in the doorframe as I dry retched everywhere once more. I would have thought by now that I should have run out of even bile to bring up – but apparently not and I decided in that moment, that reputation be damned, I'd rather snog the shoe of the next person that offered me alcohol then drink it!

For some reason, that made me think of Potter and the Golden Trio, hence I felt my stomach was quite justified in the particular convulsion that accompanied the thought. Eventually my stomach managed to settle to a dull ache and I moved myself off the doorframe and cast yet another cleaning charm over all of my rooms, and especially inside the trunk. I was so ill and tired; I very nearly gave into the thought of allowing the house elves to come and clean my room. Luckily though, the only thing stronger than my illness was my abhorrence of house elves. This surprises you I'm sure… considering my whole animal 'thing' – but let me assure you, that house elves are far, far too human to be liked.

With that in mind, I had to feed Ylva and was pretty sure I had no other way of doing so. I resolved to find her food after we were both clean, so I ran a bath and cast a quick cleaning spell to get rid of all the faecal matter off of myself and her. Adding lots of extra cherry soap to the bath, I slowly sank into the tub, still cradling Ylva to my chest. Really, I didn't know if dogs, or wolves for that matter, liked water… but Ylva was never likely to be normal now anyway, and she seemed to enjoy the warm water, so bathing together was to become one of our many 'rituals'. On the other hand, I noted to myself as I emptied the tub and shivered as it began filling again – In future I would remember the rather important lesson, that most small animals would urinate when put into warm water.

The bath was quickly full again, and wonderfully cherry-bubbled. I relaxed back into the ledge at the side of the tub, rubbing lazy circles into Ylva's fur and playing with her tiny little paws. Lovingly I examined her, she had a perfect little black nose, perfect little ears, perfect little tail… she was a perfect little bundle of silver fluff all over really I concluded.

I looked down at my own toes and felt thoroughly imperfect in comparison. Generally it was accepted that I had won the genetic lottery, I'll admit I am pretty good looking. My face and hair were born perfect, and stayed that way, my upper body I have worked on constantly since I first started school and realised that I was being judged on how I looked (I know, pretty embarrassing that I had never actually realised that _before_ school) but my legs however, are tiny little broomsticks entirely incapable of change!

Assumedly, whatever creature designed me did so with running in mind… and I did run a lot, but my legs never really strengthened, or even deigned to pretend that they had bulk. I guess I was lucky in that sense that I was a wizard and could hide them under robes, though sometimes I wore trousers, and I wore anything at home because it didn't matter – but I wouldn't be caught dead in swimming trunks at school, to be frank I'd look like half a Draco doll on stilts.

I dismissed my toes nonchalantly and returned to cleaning Ylva and myself – holding her above the water as I dunked my head under to wash my hair. Eventually, after my skin had shrivelled and I decided the warm water had done all it could to soothe my many, many aching muscles, I got out of the tub, emptied it and wrapped myself in a big white towelling robe, placing Ylva in her own towel and tucking it in the front of my robe.

I had no greater desire right then but to tuck up into my now clean bed, just as I was and sleep the day away with my pup. However, I knew my parents would be anxiously waiting for me to surface. Though I wondered if they had been the ones to put me to bed in the first place… actually I didn't want to know, there could be no happy conclusion there. No matter who put me to bed it was still dreadfully embarrassing and I didn't want to think about it. In fact, with the many hazy memories of the night before that buzzed around my head, I decided to stop thinking about anything and if I never saw the Dark Lord again, it would be too soon.

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**So, did you like it? hate it? find yourself thinking that wizards obviously have no water shortage crisis... and really good plumbing? lol. Also, incase you haven't picked up on it already I should warn you that I make up a lot of words eg. there's no such thing as patheticism - but it makes sense, so I use it :)**

**Have a nice day... I have a report to write up now :(**

**Katty xx**


	9. Bad ways

**Sorry guys this is a really really short update... but I've had it sitting for a while so I decided to just throw a bit of what I had out there and hopefully find some inspiration from my wonderful fans? followers? "unpretentious grouping word for people who like reading this story" :)**

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Besides, I had more important things to worry about – like getting Ylva food. So I sat on the bed and towelled her dry absentmindedly while I tried to think of a way around using a house-elf. I quickly came to the conclusion that there was none, well I came to the conclusion that I could milk a surrogate dog first… but I dismissed it rather swiftly.

There was nothing else for it then, so I cast a quick drying charm over myself and Ylva, then wrapped her in a dry towel and lowered her back into the clean trunk, not even bothering to shut the lid. Seeing as I had banned the elves from my rooms, I was forced to go out into the hallway to call one.

"Penny" I spat under my breath in frustration. A meek little elf with an immaculate apron appeared immediately, she was perhaps the elf I hated least in our manor.

"How can Penny help Master Draco sir?" she said exuberantly postulated in a deep curtsy.

"I would like… puppy food" I said, after a pause of trying to think of a way to phrase my request without sounding like I was keeping an animal. Obviously I failed dismally.

"How old is Master Draco be needing his puppy food" she asked obediently.

"Fresh, obviously" I replied disdainfully.

"Penny is most sorry to be confusing Master Draco, but she needs to know how old the puppy is so she does not give it the wrong food."

"I am not confused by a dumb elf and if you happen to suggest that I am keeping an animal ever again then you are to rip out your tongue before you go speaking such vile rubbish! Do you understand?" I said cuttingly, perhaps just a little overly harsh.

"Penny understands! Penny is very sorry! Penny is a bad elf! Bad elf!" she babbled hysterically, pounding her head against the stone floor.

"Shut up and be still, you foul creature" I snapped annoyed, she complied immediately, whole body frozen mid-babble/pounding. It looked so ridiculous I actually managed a snort of laughter.

"Explain what you meant by 'wrong food'" I asked patiently… well patiently for me.

"If young puppy eats older puppy food it will be sick. If old puppy eats only young puppy food it will be hungry and not grow strong" She said tremulously. This was a problem, but once again I felt I had no other choice.

"Follow me" I sighed in displeasure, heading back into my room, "You may enter this time" I added as an afterthought, which was lucky because my conflicting orders had her about to faint in the entranceway it seemed.

"This is how old she is" I said simply, bending down into the trunk and gathering Ylva into my arms. I turned to show her to the elf, and noticed as I did so the bony hand that went towards the elf's own mouth.

"Don't rip your tongue out you stupid creature, just don't tell anyone" I said in aggravation, rolling my eyes as she nodded so vigorously her tears of relief splashed out like a fountain around her.

"Well don't just stand there! Bring me the right food and be quick about it or I'll have you whipped… oh and if word of this gets out to anyone, you'll wish you were never born!" I threatened malevolently. The elf disappeared with a panicked squeak and I was left standing alone cradling Ylva, the picture of innocence.

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**I have already written a sort of explanation of Draco's attitude towards elves... and yes there is an explanation, because that's how I like to play with Draco :) I figured it would be more fun to give you guys a chance to think of possibilities first!**

**So what did you think??**

**Katty xx**


	10. Good reasons

**Well, I'm back at uni again - cry - and I have an assignment to do tonight (now) but of course, as usual I seem to become more capable of writing fic when I have to write fact :)**

**Enjoy the chapter, and if you know anything about transfrontier conservation parks, include it in your review lol.**

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My attitude to elves was never something I thought about, it was expected of me to act high above them… but that was the same with everything really. I didn't treat them the way I did because it was expected of me, I just didn't like them. There had been one elf once… because we were mostly raised by elves as babies, my family that is, another tradition.

That elf died though, I saw it – killed by another elf out of jealousy because they were like that, primal, human. I held the species responsible for the death of my elf but to be honest, I was terrified of them after that, which is why I did everything I could to keep them away from me.

I was too young to really understand much of what went on around me, but I knew that bad elves went away, not usually for long, maybe a few hours, up to a few days, it helped. So I used to tell the elves they were bad, I would make up reasons and they would obey anyway, so I wouldn't see them for a while and I could relax.

At first my parents were pleased, that I displayed such a malicious streak at such a young age and this was before I had even started circles training. Eventually however, it got to be that they couldn't summon an elf either without me sending it away, and because elves generally get a lot of orders to do things for young children; I generally sent away a lot of elves. So one day when none of the elves could work because they were all too injured (bliss for me, horror for my parents) my mother finally came to realise that I had a problem, not a malicious streak. It should go without saying, that for a family like mine a hysterical fear of house-elves was not nearly as cute as a psychotic desire to torture other creatures.

The easiest thing to do was stop the elves caring for me and let me care for myself – so I did. I had my room warded against them on the condition that I kept it clean – so I did. I was told to simply ignore the elves presence unless they came to me directly – so I did and finally It was ordered that only one elf would be responsible for me… unfortunately by elfish law, that happened to be the one elf I hated most of all, the one that murdered mine – because he had won that right, fair and square and disgustingly bloodily. I kept up my bid to keep the elf away by giving it reasons to punish itself… it remained undeterred. Much later it died too, I don't know how, it just wasn't there anymore one holiday and I was happy. I got on better with other elves once he was gone too – I may never like them but I can deal with them relatively humanely. I said relatively.

No sooner had I thought that then Penny popped back into existence outside my doorway. I walked over to her and took the little bottle she carried out of her hands without acknowledgement. I was quite impressed though, as its elongated teat showed it was clearly designed for animals, I don't know how she managed it in such a short space of time.

I offered the bottle to Ylva, but she simply turned her head away and refused to take it.

"It's wrong!" I growled at the elf, throwing the bottle at her in the process. It bounced off of her bulbous forehead and rattled across the floor. Penny hurried after it and fumbling, picked it up in usual nervous elf fashion, then proceeded to shock me like no elf has ever done before.

"Master Draco is wrong. Babies not know what is good for them. Have to learn" She said forcefully, pulling Ylva out of my flabbergasted hands and forcing the bottle into her mouth. A bit of jiggling and coaxing and Ylva was drinking happily, Penny then replaced her in my arms that hadn't moved out of surprise. She made a point of putting the bottle in my hand and making me hold it precisely the right way.

"There. Like that, good. Master Draco can feed baby now. Penny bring bottle for baby every three hours until she old enough to eat less often. Good healthy baby" she finished with a pat to Ylva's head, and just like that she had popped out of the room. Meanwhile my brain was trying hard, catching up indignation and insults from when the elf first lost her mind. How dare she touch me! How dare she touch Ylva! How dare she tell me I was wrong! How dare she… Ok, it was going to be a long list. I couldn't decide if she was the bravest or stupidest elf I had ever met, and worse, I wasn't sure if I wanted to thank her or kill her. I know I _should_ definitely _want _to kill her, but she was… and I'd almost rather stab myself than admit it, but she was… smart.

"Stupid elf" I muttered childishly to the room… that'll show her who is boss.

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**So can anyone guess the mystery... did anyone even notice that there was a mystery?? lol, it seems obvious to me but I suppose that's just because I write it. Anyway, even if you do guess the mystery it will be a long time before there's any revelations on that :D**

**Back to the assignment now *sigh***

**Katty xx **


	11. Silence is golden

**AN: Update at last - yay for me :) On the other hand, this update comes because I stayed up all night last night trying to finish my assignment and I didn't :( but then I worked out I didn't lose very much by giving myself the weekend to do it so I got to sleep :) but then when I woke up from my thrown out sleeping pattern I couldn't stand the idea of looking at the stupid thing again today so I wrote this instead but I still havent finished my assignment :S **

**ok... just enjoy the chapter!**

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Eventually I made it down to the breakfast room, which was a lot like the sun room really, except for being at the opposite side of the manor. It was probably closer to lunch then our usual breakfast schedule by the time I had managed to get my aching, permanently nauseous self down there. To my credit I was doing well keeping my unaffected pureblood mask on and walking without showing my pain. Or so I had thought.

"Morning Draco, you're looking a bit stiff. Did the Dark Lord manage to teach you your place?" Aunty, who just by my frequent luck, happened to be sitting at the head of the table facing the doorframe, chuckled merrily to me.

"Bellatrix don't you dare mock my son!" Mother snapped back at her angrily. I was just slightly worried that my mother sounded generally upset, but I had no way of cheering her up in front of everyone else and besides I was mostly exhausted from the walk down to breakfast, so I collapsed regally into the chair on my father's left at the other head of the table and deigned to wait for the women to sort themselves out. This was one of the 'rules' to living a better life my uncle had taught me when he and Aunty first moved into our manor.

I glanced at my father to see if I should be concerned and he glanced back at me over his paper, blinking in a way that assured me there was nothing to be concerned about. This of course is not to say that my family goes around blinking in code to each other, rather that we don't talk so much when it isn't necessary. Body language is on the most part as clear to me as direct speech; it's just how I was raised.

"Oh Cissy relax, Draco's a man now I'm sure he'll learn to deal with much more then a little mocking" Bella laughed off after my mother had finished a short tirade involving my merits that I had been too busy soliloquising through to pay attention to.

"He is not a man, he's a child!! My child, my only child! I might lose my only son and all you can do is laugh!" She yelled back dramatically. Thoroughly uncomfortable by this stage, I dragged an apple out of the fruit bowl and shoved it in my mouth, nausea be damned, for something to do. If I could have only stood back and looked at the situation as an outside observer, it would actually have been quite amusing – the way my father's eyes scanned the one newspaper page determinedly, the way I stared fixatedly at my shiny, green apple, chewing methodically, combined with the way my uncle stared similarly at his own coffee which still hovered partway on the trip from the tabletop to his mouth - we really did look ridiculously scared of the female explosion brewing before us.

"No one's saying he's going to die Cissy" Bella placated with more actual compassion then I would ever have given her credit for possessing.

"No one's saying! Of course they aren't saying! They don't need to, everyone knows!" Mother continued hysterically, "He's going to kill him! He'll set him up to fail just to punish you. My child will be the one to suffer for your fail-"

"Enough" Father cut across her just in time given the look on Aunt's face at the memory of her failure to the Dark Lord and someone bringing it up.

"We have trained Draco for this his whole life, he has made us proud and will continue to do so in the fight for our cause" Father stated finally. I concentrated all the harder on my too-sweet apple, not really sure if I should react or not.

"Well we shouldn't have! What cause is left? There is none, that's what. We are the last of a dead race, there are no more proper purebloods that follow the old ways just a barbarian tyrant that you follow for the sake of fighting" she finished coolly spiteful.

"Cissy control yourself" Gasped Aunty in shock, Uncle remained silently watchful, emotionlessly calm, giving no reaction.

"I said enough" Father answered empirically "Go and compose yourself before you say something more you will regret." At that Mother pushed her chair out and stalked angrily out of the room without a word. I rose immediately to follow her but Uncle grabbed my arm in restraint.

"Do not mind her Draco" my Father drawled lazily calm again, "she is just having her monthly brain imbalance, she does not mean what she says." He was cut off from continuing to speak when he had to duck a large stinging hex that came flying from the door frame.

"I'LL GIVE YOU A BRAIN IMBALANCE LUCIUS MALFOY!" Mother yelled at him angrily, Father had the good sense to look a little abashed.

"Merlin forbid I care that our family is going to suffer the weight of this war" she finished quietly dramatic, tears starting to run down her face as she turned on her heel and left abruptly. Seeing my mother cry was always the absolute worst feeling in the world for me, like someone had come along and sucked all of my insides out then slapped me in the face.

So I went to comfort my mother, only to find my uncle was still restraining my wrist.

"Leave her lad, she'll be fine in a while" he said gently.

"I don't care" I said firmly, removing myself, "she's not fine now." I then continued to jog out of the room after my mother to disapproving smirks, rolled eyes or head shakes (depending on individual preference) from those left at the table.

I found her in one of the sitting rooms, crying as she sat wedged in the corner of a puffy, dark leather two-seater couch. She was dabbing at her eyes and sobbing restrainedly but she started crying harder as soon as she saw me. Without a word I crawled in next to her on the couch, laying across her lap with my head resting on her stomach, my body tucked up as close as possible around her. We used to always sit like this when I was younger. We just sat like that for a while, my mum stroking my hair and playing with it as she calmed down and stopped crying.

I loved my mother; she was really probably the only person in the world I had a normal relationship with. She was certainly the only one I enjoyed being petted by and I didn't care what people thought of the way I acted towards her, if they thought I was childish or a Mummy's boy… well maybe I was but it was only for her.

"I'm sorry" I whispered sincerely after a time, "I thought you wanted me to be a Death Eater, I won't do it if it makes you unhappy" I told her earnestly as she smiled lovingly down at me.

"It is far too late for that" a voice spoke severely from the doorframe. I looked up to see the Dark Lord walk into the room looking quite displeased and I have to say, of all the surprises to begin the day with, this was not a good one. It was still way too soon to be dealing with my embarrassment and him again.

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**Hope you liked the update, probably the last one for a while given the whole assignments thing grrr, so over uni - who's with me?!?!? lol**

**Katty xx **


	12. What The Flobberworm

**This chapter is for Toraus, also brain fried by uni :) and cyiusblack for being consistent lol**

**Enjoy... **

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"Come with me now" he said coldly, not acknowledging my red-eyed mother for more then a fleeting glare. I stared at him frozen, my brain still trying to catch up from the moment he appeared at the room, wondering what he was doing in our house. I glanced up at my mother and she nudged me out of the chair with a whispered,

"It's all right." I got up in a daze and the Dark Lord turned on his heel and strode from the room palpably angry, more so then before. I could not work out what was upsetting him, but I did not think much past my own fear at being close to his anger because this was the Dark Lord I had 'known', been raised to believe in – a scary, angry man that could kill you with a glare. I was just about wetting myself and I kept looking back over my shoulder as I followed him along our corridor to search for my mother. He seemed to just get more and more riled, though he never turned around to look at me, I could feel it. Every time I turned back from my over shoulder look, he was angrier.

We turned a corner and carried up some stairs, with an inaudibly defeated sigh I resigned myself to my fate and gave up hoping that I would ever see my mother again. So I followed him diligently keeping my eyes on the ground before me. Then just as I'd felt him getting angrier he began to be calmer, I thought it weird but I never considered relating it to my attachment to my mother.

Eventually we came upon a door and he opened it, stating simply but forcefully,

"Enter". So I did, and stood in the middle of the room, mustering as much courage as I could from the floorboards. That was when the shaking started. Just a twitch in my hand at first, then the tremors spread up my arm. I tried to shake my hands unnoticeably to flick the nerves out, but it didn't work. I ended up folding my arms tightly across my chest and hoping, especially now I had lost control of my legs as well, that it was one of those things that felt more obvious then it looked.

The Dark Lord shut the door noiselessly behind us, and walked around me. I stayed staring straight ahead, stoic like a solider being assessed for turnout… because I think in a lot of ways that was what I was, certainly my father had given me enough practise at it in the past. Of course, my unaffected stoicism was slightly failed this time because I couldn't control the minute trembles that refused to stop raking my body.

He circled around and stopped in front of me, he seemed quite pleased with himself but I was still too nervous from his anger on the walk here to actually look him in the face to make sure. I watched as he walked over to a cabinet where a crystal tumbler sat full of a dark amber liquid, he poured two half glasses and keeping one for himself, came over and offered the other to me.

I think a little part of me died when it realised I was going to have to drink alcohol again. I know I just about swallowed my tongue trying not to dry retch at the thought of feeling worse then I already did. All the same I untangled my arms from around myself and thanked him quietly and automatically for the drink. I held it close to myself with both hands to help steady them, then with a determined thought I quickly raised the glass to my mouth with the intention of downing it all in one go. A hand reached out and stopped me, holding my own around the glass just about resting on my chin.

"Fine scotch is a taste to be savoured Draco", the Dark Lord instructed me, gently mocking. I hadn't stopped staring at him open mouthed and dumbstruck since he'd first made contact, and when he finally removed his hand from around mine he brushed a finger under my chin "and it's 'my lord' now Draco, is it not?" he concluded sweetly triumphant, I hadn't even noticed I'd called him Sir again and I definitely couldn't recall being allowed to call him my lord.

"I... umm" I took a sip of the drink, to give me time to work things out. All my mind came up with though, the second the scotch hit my tongue was – what taste?! My mouth was in pain, a total numbing burn that spread wherever the liquid touched it, and only worsened as I tried to hold it there to show my 'savouring'… I suppose it had a sort of smoothly sweet aftertaste, but I bloody didn't care, it wasn't worth it and now my thinking time was well and truly up and I hadn't achieved anything more then another realisation that I did not want to drink alcohol.

"But you did not mark me… I thought I was not worthy" Finally I answered him timidly, picking at the rim of the glass intently as if there was some flaw in it of great importance to me.

I did not see his hand this time as it came towards me, and so when I felt it push gently under my chin to tilt my head up, I reared away instinctively. He quickly gripped me firmly behind the neck, but it was slightly unnecessary because once I had realised what I was doing, I'd stopped backing away myself. All the same, the light pressure on my neck felt like a tonne of oppressing weight holding me captive, and I was too fearful of how much I'd upset him to look any higher then his chest, right in front of where he held me almost to himself, as I tried and failed to stammer an apology.

"Shh Draco" he tried to soothe me calmly, to my utter amazement, rubbing the back of my neck with his spidery fingers. I couldn't understand how he could go from being so angry just because, to being so patient when I did something like that, which I'm sure he'd kill people for… I also couldn't understand, why he couldn't understand, that touching me only made me feel worse and want to run away! So him rubbing my neck was definitely not helping me calm down.

"Go and sit on the couch" he commanded simply, releasing me without a fuss. I complied immediately; glad to be away from his hands, though I had a foreboding feeling, known to most as 'realistically negative expectations' of how this meeting was going to progress. I crossed the room quickly and set my drink down on the end table before alighting upon the centre of the small and polished smooth-leathered couch.

The Dark Lord remained where he had been standing for a little while, though he had turned to watch me sitting here as he casually sipped his drink, perhaps contemplating the most torturous way to string me from the ceiling. After that pleasant thought I decided to simply focus on my knees and not think! I found that I could not succeed at that for very long though, paranoid as I was about my forthcoming doom, so I chanced a nervous glance up at him. He was watching me intently still and smiled at me when I looked up… well 'at' me as in at my apparently amusing behaviour I think rather then 'at' me as in a friendly sort of gesture. I looked away again immediately, having frightened myself a bit I must admit derisorily.

He took another leisurely sip of his drink and then finally approached the couch, setting his drink beside mine on the table he moved behind me and placed a hand on top of my head, which, although irritating, I was able to manage without being alarmed.

"You don't remember last night" he stated cheerfully cryptic.

"I do not think so" I replied carefully.

"Don't you ever look at yourself naked?" he asked plainly, slipping his hand down my neck and into my robes, fingers playing over my clavicle.

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**dun dun dun.............. stay tuned for 'will Draco turn around and AK him', ending this story rather prematurely... or will he, like... not. **

**So umm review, because I still have 2 assignments left until the end of this year and I reeeeeeeeaaaalllllly need the motivation.**

**Katty xx**


	13. Ownership

**Wow - I am so annoyed at myself for writing this, while I am glad to have FINALLY gotten out another chapter... I was supposed to be doing my assingment!!! I went to open a file for the assignment, but I saw this instead, thought I'd just have a quick look - now I don't even remember what I meant to open in the first place, I frustrate myself sooooooooo much! lol **

**Anyways, this chapter is dedicated to PaintTheNight, who was quite right in thinking that I had somewhat given up on writing fanfic... actually I'm thinking I might call this a ...12? shot and leave the rest to your imaginations, because it does at least sound somewhat wrapped up at the end of this chapter, well I think so anyway.**

**I'll stop rambling now, enjoy :D**

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It caused a weird jolt in my stomach and I vaulted off the couch as if stung. I turned where I had landed, staring at him unseeingly with my chest heaving as I tried to get control of myself. Part of me was yelling 'what the hell did I do last night' and trying to connect images that the couch had triggered coming back to me, but they only increasingly panicked me. Another part of myself was calmly trying to lull me back onto the couch and into reasonability with 'just sit back down, he's the Dark Lord, he can do whatever he wants, would you rather be dead?' The problem was, I wasn't so sure, or at least I was having trouble convincing myself that I wouldn't rather be dead then sitting on that couch allowing myself to be molested.

All the while as I stood terrorized and torturing myself the Dark Lord gazed evenly back at me, never having moved at all, just waiting for me to look at him I guess, but I wasn't really looking at anything anyway.

"Draco" he called gently, but he may as well have screamed it for the way it shocked me out of my soliloquising stupor. My eyes moved up to focus on his and I started moving back towards him automatically, unable to properly catch my breath as I told myself I was doing the right thing, what I knew was required of me.

Then suddenly, I was lying on the couch, propped against the armrest, the Dark Lord perched beside me trying to pour water in my mouth. I coughed and spluttered a bit, waking up properly and staring bashfully at the man above me.

"Drink Draco, you are quite unwell" he stated matter-of-factly, offering me the glass of water which I took and continued to drink "you fainted, I expect due to magical exhaustion".

'Yeah right', I thought disbelievingly, but managed to keep it to myself. He leaned back and watched me sip slowly from the cup for a moment, one of his hands just resting on my stomach, playing idly over the fabric covering my belly button while he seemed to think, his gaze for once not on me, but somewhere in the middle-distance of the room. All too soon he seemed to come upon an idea and his eyes shifted back to study my face, his fingers slipping down to ghost patterns over my hipbone while he leaned slowly over me and started to undo the top of my robes.

It took every ounce of everything I ever had to not react. To swallow the mouthful of water I had just taken instead of spitting it across the room or choking on it. To lie quietly and steady my breaths, instead of protesting, or flinching, writhing, screaming, panicking, and trying to get away… All things considered I was doing much better then the flashes I remembered of last night.

I picked a spot on his collar and fixed my eyes on it as he tugged the robe away from my shoulders and left me lying bare-chested and shivering. '_Breathe and acquiesce_' was my slow and rhythmic chant to help steady my heartbeat and stop me panicking. I knew this was something I had to do, regardless of whether I was a deatheater or not. To refuse would be as good as me bludgeoning my parents to death myself, and I would never. My loyalty was to protect my family at any cost… Any cost.

"You worry too much for one your age" The Dark Lord murmured amusedly, stroking my cheek. I lifted my eyes up to him slowly, concentrating still on controlling my shallow breathing. He smiled once my eyes finally fell upon the mirror in his hand.

"See now Draco" he said, moving his spidery fingers over to point out my clavicle, "I did mark you. You are mine".

I wasn't sure what to say, he kept running a finger around my mark… except that it wasn't the mark that I'd expected, just a snake, curled quite contentedly by the looks, on my collar-bone.

"Do you like it?" he asked quietly, "I know how you dislike 'big, ugly tattoos'" he added teasingly, running a finger over the tattoo, causing the snake to stretch languidly into an 's' and the same crawling jolt of electricity to spread through my body. I didn't flinch this time though, when I figured I could see and understand what the feeling was, I wasn't frightened by it… Not that I was frightened before of course.

"Yes, thankyou" I blushed furiously I'm sure, as I replied to him earnestly but, all the while I couldn't stop thinking – why? Why mark me differently, was I really a deatheater then, why did he do it?

"If I may Draco" he said, gaining my attention but clearly not expecting a reply, "to your mother you may act the purring kitten, all docile and sweet, constantly seeking some ministration. For your father you might be the exuberant puppy, always at heel, aiming to please, living for days off of the happiness of a single word of praise. You must remember though" he said forcefully, splaying his palm across my chest, "that you belong to me now, and I see you as they never could have envisioned. You are not some helpless kitten or puppy; you are untamed potential that no one else has ever seen. You are my colt Draco, already so powerful, but it is only with my training that you will be able to utilize it, be able to be recognised for what you are" he finished excitedly, eyes gleaming, hands gripping my shoulders.

I had absolutely no idea what he was on about, he just mentioned a lot of animals and it was way, way over my head and far away the more I tried to decipher it.

"Last night Draco, you learnt an important lesson" The Dark Lord's velvety drawl pulled me back to the present, and he grasped my face with both hands, "I need you to remember it. _Legilimens_".

At first nothing happened, I looked back at him somewhat blankly as his eyes bored deeply into mine. Then he simply quirked an eyebrow and stated in a tone that, though it pains me, I could only describe as 'fondly exasperated', "When the Dark Lord seeks access to you mind Draco, I suggest you lower your shields."

"Oh, of course, right, sorry, yes" I stammered, more then a little flustered. My Aunt did teach me occlumency, or rather, she explained the theories and techniques, attempted a practical demonstration - and rather like the Dark Lord's previous attempt, nothing seemed to happen – at least not so far as I could tell. Aunty zapped me with a friendly crucio, mentioned nostalgically that I was 'so like my mother' and went off merrily giggling to tell her so. When I asked mother later she explained that under the right circumstances, some people naturally develop a very strong ability to occlude their minds… and I was her special little boy etcetera etcetera, you know, all the usual maternal things.

The point being that, although I understand occlumency and am apparently quite good at it, I have no actual control over it. I have never 'lowered my shields' per say and I do not possess the slightest notion as to how to go about it. So I squeezed my eyes shut and focused my mind entirely on the chant of 'let him in, let him in'. Again, nothing seemed to happen so after a few long seconds I risked slowly opening my eyes to see if he had made any progress. His smug features looked down upon me, a mixture between amused and impressed, impressed I figure for the natural talent, amused most likely for my natural stupidity.

"Never mind child, I will teach you to open your mind for me" he said, gently stroking fingers along my cheekbone before securing my face in his grasp even more strongly then before,

"This will be easiest on you if you can relax yourself fully", I hardly felt that was likely given his grip on my head.

"however, as I'm sure relaxing is a talent far out of your reach, I regret to inform you that this is going to hurt quite a bit" and with that went any chance that I ever stood of relaxing a little.

"once your body accepts the intrusion, the pain will numb considerably, and after a few sessions you may be able to open you mind to the point where my intrusion will not hurt it at all" He paused then, and I wasn't sure if he was waiting for some kind of reply from me, but I certainly did not have anything coming to mind. The idea that this – these little meetings, where I end up splayed on a couch, had happened before and were going to continue to happen and be considered important lessons, left me feeling… very not good, and clearly incapable of speech.

He gave a last quick smirk, tilted my face towards his, and whispered _legilimens _once more. There were a few brief happy seconds when I thought perhaps nothing was going to happen again, but then I felt it, a few prods at first in my forehead. It was almost as if they expected to find an entrance to my mind there, it was unpleasant and made me jerk my head around a bit, but not really painful. Things went downhill from there, eventually one harder prod seemed to get the non-existent finger tendril 'thing' in the right place and then it just started pushing, and wouldn't stop. I lost control of myself trying to hurl my head against the unsoftening grip to no avail, my legs pumped furiously to try to crawl up the couch and away from the entering force but found no purchase, my arms scrabbled against the body in front of me though they had no influence on the immovable man. It pushed and pushed and pushed until I was sure something was going to break, that I was going to break, cave in and shatter into a thousand miserable pieces.

Something tore, that's what it felt like, a tiny tear that allowed the tendril to plunge into the entrance it had so desperately sought. I screamed, just once more in shock then the agony because the pain didn't stop but I didn't scream again. I mewled in frantic and pathetic gasps and moaned with every panted breath that escaped me. The thing – the thing! It was thick, like it still couldn't fit in the tunnel it had created for itself and had to pound and push and tear its way further in, but at its end, smaller tendrils like whips spread out across my mind, behind my eyes, zapping and clawing at everything they came into contact with. The natural defences of my mind kept pushing against it, the more they did, the more they were torn painfully apart but I had no control either way.

I could not last, I had no dignity or restraint left and sobbed in violent, ragged breaths, my arms no longer pushing the body away, hands instead gripping at the robes in front of me for support, some stability. I writhed weakly and tried to roll away from the force on the couch, but I was already pressed into the side with nowhere to go. At last it seemed to hit something, causing an electric current to pulse once brutally through my mind. I blacked out for a second, but that offered no respite, the tendril felt as if it was swinging from side to side, trying to widen the path it had travelled, the mini tendrils had spread like a net over my mind and stung as one, burning incessantly. Images began to flash through my mind, I couldn't follow at first, incoherent as I was, but then things slowed down a little, and though every image seared behind my eyes and hurt all the more to follow, I began to watch as the previous day played out in my mind's eye. As the images played the tendrils seemed to stop moving, their work done, and I stayed utterly still, gripping the Dark Lord like he was my one lifeline. Every time a tendril moved there was another whiplash of pain, and overall my mind was torn, invaded and pulverised, definitely not numb, just in agony.

I was waiting for the numb still, when the images reached the clearing and the last man had his head blown off before whatever fatalistic part of my brain decided that it absolutely would not betray Ylva pushed out. Hard.

Can you imagine filling your head with tiny fishing hooks and then ripping them all out at once. I can.

I came back to myself immediately and relinquished my grip on the man, pushing him away, trying to fight him off, kick out, sit up. He moved his body on top of mine, sitting on my hips and overpowering my legs ability to kick effectively. Quickly he secured my wrists in his surprisingly vice-like grip and pressed them down, holding them still against my chest. My breath was harsh and hyperventilating, I looked at him through red tinted eyes, realising that I was crying tears of blood, my nose was also bleeding profusely, and my mouth, especially where I had bitten into my cheeks and tongue.

"Breathe Draco" he said calmly, trying to hold me steady. I couldn't though, couldn't breathe, couldn't listen, couldn't possibly follow the supreme such and such's orders.

"There are no secrets kept from me, you have no need and I will not allow it"

I was too busy shaking my pain filled head about and muttering 'no' a lot. I wasn't ready when he entered my mind again, and it hurt worse, which I wouldn't have thought possible if I wasn't keening about it on the couch and trying not to choke on the bile it raised from my throat, glad that I had nothing to throw up. At least the second time it went straight in, but it still stretched and tore the whole way, everything it touched burning and stinging, raw and over-sensitised. When the little tendrils whipped out again, I kind of… left. I was watching the images, knowing I was in a lot of pain but I wasn't really there anymore, not in control or trying to fight, just watching as _he_ did, as the previous night played out before us, in every fine detail. I was kind of glad at the end to have things in order, and be sure of what happened… except that I wasn't really feeling anything. Even when he pulled fully out at last and I was back to myself looking at him (still I might add, in bloody agony) I didn't really feel as if I was entirely there.

He smiled at my docile form, conjured pillows and blankets and transfigured the couch into a more comfortable bed, tucking me in to lie down comfortably wrapped up. For a minute or so he moved away and I couldn't follow what he was doing, but when he came back he was holding Ylva and my heart stopped. Then he tucked her under the blanket on my chest and with her warm little body against my own, somehow everything was just ok. His next words made things better too.

"Although you do not recall, and I felt no need to subject you to the memory, you actually introduced us last night" he said, gently running a hand over Ylva's sleeping form. "She needed healing spells for her immunity, and feeding. You were quite adamant that if I was to be your lord then I had to do these things for your familiar. You refused to go to bed otherwise, although you passed out as soon as you fell into bed anyway, once I started." He finished, obviously amused.

I couldn't make words come out, so I found his hand over Ylva and gripped it with my own, looking up with all the gratitude I could muster. He squeezed back and sat beside me, freeing his hand from mine to pick up a damp washcloth that I had no idea he had gotten, and wiping clean my bloody face. He worked in silence for a few minutes wiping gently until my face was its pristine porcelain again. It was not until he started dabbing an amazing ointment on my face that removed pain everywhere it touched (I also had no idea where it'd come from) that he spoke again.

"I am not your family Draco, I do not hold you to their traditions and I do not care when you break their rules but I will not interfere in their attempts to hold you to them. I will however, protect the secrets between us, the same as you do – so you can rest assured that you, and your secret" he nodded pointedly at Ylva, "are very safe with me" He whispered, finishing up applying the ointment with a last dab brushed along my lips.

I nodded once, in total acknowledgement of his ownership of me. I know it sounds perhaps unlike me, but I got it now, I understood he was all powerful and I was nothing, no matter how gently or benevolently he pretended to care for me afterwards, the fact was he was prepared to inflict horrendous pain on me, and no doubt anyone that I cared about, if he saw it in his best interest. I would not make it in his interest, I would not deny him or fight him ever again – if I was useful he would protect me, then I would be able to protect Ylva. I looked back into his eyes with total trust, not like the kind of trust you have for a family member, like they will always love you and protect you. No, the kind of trust that says, this man can do whatever he wants to me, and I'll let him, trust him to do as he says, because it makes no difference anyway.

The Dark Lord's face clearly reflected that he knew I had learnt my lesson also, and he was glad. Very, very glad.

"Rest now Draco, no one will disturb us" he whispered gently, and so I did, falling into a surprisingly peaceful sleep with the Dark Lord by my side and Ylva's heartbeat thrumming a placating beat against my chest.

* * *

**So ah 'the end' for quite a while maybe, let your imaginations run wild!**

**Katty xx **


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